


I Know The End

by sirsophie88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts, Long, M/M, Not completely canon compliant, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, To An Extent, almost every ship here is a slow burn so i am so sorry, but main story line is the same, or at least slow burn in the sense that u won't get the full story for a hot sec, time jumps, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 90,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsophie88/pseuds/sirsophie88
Summary: Eleanor Potter has always known how she would die. Sooner or later, Voldemort would crop back up and she would die fighting him, just like her parents. She had long past accepted this as her fate, but Fred Weasley was starting to make her think she might just have something to live for.Eleanor's pretty sure her godfathers are hiding something from her. She's also pretty sure her last year at Hogwarts is going to end in tragedy. And yet, her and her friends are going to try and enjoy every last piece of their youth before Voldemort makes his presence known. And Merlin help whoever stands in their way of winning the annual seventh-year's game of Assassin.Essentially this work will detail the lives of the student's in Fred and George's year through Hogwarts.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/ofc, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lee Jordan/Oliver Wood, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. Shades of Grey

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings**
> 
> This story involves mature content such as trauma, death, grief, sex, drugs, and swearing. Just a heads up in advance.
> 
> Also, this is going to be super slowburn because I love pain. If you're going to read, you might have to be a little patient with the romance. All good love stories take time. As well, I have the whole thing planned out and it's going to be pretty long. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Chapter one *technically* begins in Order of the Phoenix and then follows the timeline. There will be a lot of time jumping through memories so the earlier books will be mentioned as well.
> 
> We will start by following canon (to a degree) but I promise there will be a lot of deviations from canon. Prepare for some surprises.
> 
> I've named this fic after a song called I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers. I suggest giving the song a listen. I have a whole spotify playlist for the story that I might link in eventually. 
> 
> Lastly, the Harry Potter universe, characters, and overall plot line all belong to JK Rowling. The only things I own are my original characters and plot points. (I do not support any of JK Rowling's disgusting Transphobic comments)
> 
> Thanks for reading and bear with me! I like to edit the chapters before I post them so it may take a few days between chapter postings

When she reflected upon her life, she saw it through flashes of color. The most pivotal of moments seared in a vivid green across her mind's eye. These were typically followed by periods of all-consuming darkness, characterized by lapses in her memory that could only be explained away through severe childhood trauma. There were bright spots too of course. She recalled her summers as a honey yellow, seeping through her skin and warming her chest. The sun shining brightly overhead, freshly squeezed lemonade, windswept strawberry hair, the gleam of worn-down broom handles all passed behind her eyelids any time she paused to reminisce. She felt that much of her adolescence could accurately be represented by a fiery red. She donned red and gold officially at age eleven. Filibuster Fireworks. The warmth radiating out of the fireplace residing in the Gryffindor common room. Handmade sweaters. The Weasleys. Fred Weasley to be exact.

The place where we must begin this story, for lack of a better starting point, could be best described as a dull grey, sometimes brightening to a more pleasant off white, other times plummeting to black, only to return to some place in the middle of the spectrum. Eleanor Potter attributed this color scheme to her current place of residence – number 12, Grimmauld Place. If she had been more astute in her observations, she surely would have realized that even a home as gloomy as Grimmauld Place could be brightened if her mood allowed for such. Eleanor sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap in the windowless basement kitchen of the grimy townhouse. The only sound that could be heard throughout the room was the dull tick of an antique clock stationed above a black wooden cupboard high upon the wall, her feet tapping nervously on the ground in tune with it.

Her godfather, Sirius Black, sat across from her, his face set without an ounce of expression. However, he too was fidgeting nervously in his seat regardless of his outward appearance. On his right sat Remus Lupin who, unlike Sirius, stared at Eleanor with a mixture of sympathy and irritation. To think Eleanor would have given anything in the world all but a month ago to be sitting alone in a room with these two men was incredulous. She heaved a heavy sigh and looked Sirius directly in the eyes, leaning back in her chair.

"I don't understand why we have to wait for him to have this conversation," She stated coldly, "I truly don't see what he has to do with any of this. In fact, as I have already told the both of you, I would greatly appreciate it if he had as little to do with my life as possible."

"If you would like it as such, may I recommend following the rules that the Order has placed upon us. I do believe he shares your sentiment in wishing he did not need to take time out of his busy schedule to pay us a visit this evening," Lupin replied shortly.

Sirius looked away from both Eleanor and Lupin, appearing to be scrutinizing a stain on the darkened wall. Eleanor rolled her eyes and returned to slouching in her chair. She would have liked to argue, these days she would have jumped at the opportunity to argue with anyone she could find, but unfortunately Lupin's words rang too true to fight. She raised her eyes to the mildew marked ceiling to avoid Lupin's gaze.

 _O_ _ne more day_ , she thought sullenly.

"Oh, I wouldn't put it quite that way Remus," a quiet voice replied from the darkened basement stairwell.

Eleanor jumped at the sound and straightened quickly in her chair, smoothing out her dress. Sirius snapped his head away from the stained wall and looked in the direction of the voice. Lupin simply smiled as Dumbledore emerged from the doorway.

"I genuinely do enjoy all three of your company and, under different circumstances, would love to come around for dinner. Alas there is much that we are all currently burdened with, so you are indeed correct that I do not enjoy wasting time giving capable seventeen-year-old witches simple instructions."

Dumbledore peered at Eleanor over his spectacles. With much effort, she contorted her face into a smile.

"If your instructions weren't so ridiculously unkind to my brother, I would have no trouble following them," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "but alas they are."

Sirius coughed into his cup. When Eleanor turned to look at him, she could have sworn she had seen him smiling before taking a swig of mead. Lupin looked as though he were about to cry out in exhaustion. She looked at her hands with a twinge of shame. It was never her intention to upset Lupin, but he believed so strongly in Dumbledore that she was finding it easier and easier as of late to let him down.

Dumbledore did not flinch at her words. His face betrayed no new emotion, but his eyes gleamed with empathy, which irritated her in a way she could not quite explain. He walked the rest of the way over to the long table at which the three of them were already seated and pulled out a chair with the flick of his wand.

"I do not expect you to understand why we are keeping Harry at your aunt's, but I assure you my reasons are pure. I do not wish him to suffer any more than he already has, not at the hands of your extended family or from the wizarding community. His safety is my first priority," Dumbledore added kindly.

" _My_ priority is his mental stability!" Eleanor snapped back, "his happiness! He just witnessed a boy not that much older than me die a few feet in front of him! Worse yet, he witnessed Voldemort rise back to power. He was struck with the cruciatus curse. He should not be alone, holed up with those abusive – yes, Lupin ABUSIVE- excuses for human beings who would have been more than happy if Harry had died that night. You are isolating him when he needs us the most. He has a real home now, with us," Eleanor gestured around the table, indicating Sirius and Lupin, "not to mention, he was forced to simply endure Peter's presence, which is a tragedy in of itself."

"All I did was visit him at Privet Drive. Well, yes, okay, I visited him multiple times after you all had explicitly told me not to do so," she amended, pausing, "I apparated there and back though. No one could have possibly tracked me from here to Privet Drive. I'm seventeen, the ministry can't track the magic I perform anymore. I was extremely careful. I didn't put him, or anyone else for that matter, in danger. I would never allow my actions to put him in danger."

 _"_ Unfortunately, Eleanor, I have to disagree with you. Your excursion to Azkaban a few years ago was an act of extreme recklessness which could have led to disastrous implications for Harry had you been proven incorrect."

Both Sirius and Eleanor glowered at Dumbledore's remark. Lupin shifted uncomfortably in his chair as silence ensued. No one seemed keen to speak anymore, not even Eleanor.

"While I am sure that you believe yourself to have taken as many cautionary measures as possible to visit Harry, I have no doubt that there are precautions your mind has yet to even consider," Dumbledore continued quietly after a minute. "While you are correct that the ministry can no longer track the magic you perform, I am sure you must be aware that the ministry would like to keep track of you anyway. They believe you to be spending the summer at the Burrow. Do not give them a reason to question that. Please do not give me a reason to send you away from the new home you have built."

Rage burst throughout Eleanor's entire body. She had not considered this train of thought. She hated the fact that Dumbledore had a valid point. She hated that her hatred now felt slightly unjustified. To combat this feeling, she compiled a short list in her head of all the justifiable reasons she had to hex Dumbledore at this moment.

  1. Harry was spending the summer isolated from those who cared about him. Instead, he was spending time with their abusive Aunt and Uncle. Reasons currently ungiven.
  2. Harry should not have been allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament in the first place. Reasons given; reasons stupid. What was the point of Dumbledore being the "greatest wizard of the generation" if he couldn't overcome what was comparable to a forged contract with a fucking goblet?
  3. That business Dumbledore conducted with the Malfoys fourteen years prior. Reasons ungiven, although she was becoming sure she knew his thought process for this course of action. Expected reasoning was not good enough.



She was sure that the third point would always drive her away from Dumbledore, and there was little she could do to fight it. However, Eleanor created a second list in her head just as quickly with reasons not to perform improper magic on the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

  1. Hexing Dumbledore was certainly grounds for expulsion.
  2. He would probably manage to block whatever she came up with – "greatest wizard of the generation" and all.
  3. She was sure that Lupin would burst into tears.



Again, her third reason felt most vital in this scenario. Lupin's feelings mattered to her more than her own wellbeing. He appeared to be on the edge of a complete collapse, ready to fade peacefully away through the veil that separated the living and the dead. His hair was graying steadily. It appeared that every morning light brought upon a new wrinkle on his once joyful face. He was still handsome, but life had taken its toll on his body savagely. She could see the youth in him, deep beneath his eyes, but even their beautiful glow was dimming. She refused to be the thing that brought about his final downfall. So instead, she sat with her anger bubbling just beneath the surface, praying Dumbledore would leave so she could continue to ignore his wishes in peace.

As though reading her mind, Dumbledore smirked.

"You are not above my orders, Eleanor. You must stay here until Harry can be safely moved to Grimmauld Place without Ministry interference or knowledge. I am terribly sorry - both you and Harry deserve better than the hand you were given in this life."

Dumbledore moved slowly to his feet, glancing around the dimly lit kitchen once more. The kitchen appeared darker to Eleanor now, although nothing had changed. She felt defeated. How could she have let Harry down so many times in the span of these last few months?

"If you do leave this house again without permission, we will have to take drastic measures to keep you here. I do not wish to impose this on you, but I will if proven necessary. Please Eleanor, think of what Harry needs right now rather than what he wants."

It was now Eleanor's turn to inspect a stain on the wooden table, of which she was becoming quite sure was blood. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly, still refusing to meet Dumbledore's piercing gaze.

"You mentioned Harry coming here. Do you have any idea when that could be?" Sirius spoke for the first time in a raspy voice. "As his godfather, I would appreciate some insight into what is happening with him. As well as a say in the matter," he muttered the last phrase under his breath, but he maintained eye contact with Dumbledore throughout his entire sentence.

"Soon," Dumbledore said brightly.

His tone suggested an inability to properly read the emotions coursing through the room. Eleanor had picked her head up at the sound of Sirius's voice, but dropped her gaze back to the blood-stained table immediately after. She had little hope that "soon" meant any time within the coming month. She could see Sirius's white handed grip on his glass in her periphery vision, but he did not say anymore. Lupin appeared very anxious now, tapping his fingers slightly against the table.

"Well, thank you for stopping by Dumbledore. We, er..." Lupin shot a fretful look in Eleanor's direction, "apologize for not being able to curb Eleanor's... enthusiasm in, uh, helping to look after Harry."

"No apology needed Remus. I will see you all at the next order meeting. Unless something pertinent happens before then, of course."

Dumbledore surveyed Eleanor one last time before she heard footsteps climbing up the stairs and out of earshot. She waited in silence until she heard the faint sound of the front door closing against the dusty frame.

"Thanks for that," she spat at the pair of them left at the table in front of her.

The anger she had been choking on since Dumbledore's arrival flowed out of her throat and into the silence. She was seething. She did not believe herself above anyone's orders, as Dumbledore had insinuated. All she wanted was the best for Harry, which included more than simply keeping him alive. A life without living is not what she had in mind for her younger brother. Dumbledore seemed content enough with this view, but it would not appease her.

A loud popping noise shattered through the old house. The flame lit candles that lined the kitchen area magnified twenty-fold. The flames now kissed the walls upon which the candles were holstered. Long gone was the dim, blue tint that the kitchen usually held. It had been replaced with a muted orange film, resembling the sight of the air in the aftermath of a wildfire. Large shadows danced across the dining room table as the wax began to melt with greater speed. The flames continued to grow in size until the cabinet on which the clock sat caught fire. Eleanor gasped, fearing the whole house would soon burn, but Sirius flicked his wand lazily and waved the flames back to their original intensity, setting out the cabinet in the process.

"Careful," Sirius warned, "I know you're angry; we are too. We want Harry here just as much as you do, but magic like that doesn't do anyone any good."

"I didn't mean to," Eleanor muttered.

It was not the first time her emotions had gotten the best of her and she had set something ablaze. Unfortunately for everyone else, it was quite a regular occurrence.

"Have you been practicing?" Lupin asked gently. "The deep breathing exercises seemed to have been working back at Hogwarts. Of course, if that's no longer the case, I think Sirius had a great idea. You could channel the magic into something less, er, dangerous. What if we moved from flames to fireworks? That has the potential for less damage in the long run, although I suppose it still poses a threat all the same..."

"Of course, I've been practicing!" Eleanor said.

_Translation- No, I have not been practicing._

"It's just... all I'm allowed to do is sit here and think the most horrid of thoughts. We have all this time with not a single distraction."

"Yes, this place certainly reminds me of Azkaban sometimes, confined within these dark walls with such dark thoughts. I do prefer your company to the dementors, if only slightly. Kreacher kind of resembles the true form of a dementor though. I would certainly lose my soul if either one tried to kiss me."

Both Lupin and Eleanor snorted, the mood in the room lightening.

"How special are we to be ranked slightly above dementorson Sirius Black's list of potential companions," Lupin said with a smile at Sirius.

"The dementors _and_ Kreacher," Sirius added pointedly, "below Buckbeak though."

"That's too bad, but I can't blame you. How am I to compete with Buckbeak for your affection?" Lupin replied.

Sirius and Lupin chuckled, smiling at each other for a prolonged moment. Eleanor felt strongly that she was intruding on a private moment but she didn't want to burst their bubble. Instead, she smiled down at the table, picking at the bloodstain with her nails.

"I guess we could be occupying our time more productively," Sirius sighed, effectively popping the bubble that had swelled between him and Lupin. "Young children have accidental magic spurts all the time, but you're seventeen now. Hogwarts should have taught you to exert control over your abilities by your seventh year. We'll start practicing. Actual practice though," he added with a smirk, "with Lupin or I present just in case."

"Yeah, whatever. Shouldn't you be training me in more important matters though? I mean, if we are going to be practicing magic might you teach me to use my magic rather than suppress it."

"We don't want you to suppress your magic!" Lupin said, furrowing his brow slightly. "The better control you have over your magic, the better you can direct it where you intend to. Say you're dueling a Death Eater and suddenly, you're overcome with emotions. The walls proceed to burst into flames all around you just as they did a minute ago. Part of your magic is now being wasted on the walls rather than the Death Eater. You might not be conscious of the effort you're exerting into the flames, but it's there all the same. We just want you at your full potential."

"And we don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself," Sirius added while nodding his head at Lupins words, "or others."

Lupin and Sirius shared a fleeting, dark look before returning their gaze to Eleanor. She felt a pit grow in her stomach as the phrase _"or others_ " echoed in her head. She wondered if they knew things, things they weren't sharing with her. Things she certainly hadn't shared with them.

"You're right, I should try harder," Eleanor admitted, sliding her chair back from the table. It screeched loudly against the stone floor, making the others wince. She sometimes wondered if their hearing was heightened due to their transformations. Sirius certainly laughed in a manner that resembled a bark. Not that he laughed much anymore.

"Eleanor," Lupin raised his hand to motion for her to remain sitting, "I know you don't agree with Dumbledore and I know you don't want to talk about it, but for our peace of mind will you please just listen. We worry about your safety too you know. I promise you that I will harp on him every time I see him about Harry's relocation _. Just. Stay. Put_ _."_ He emphasized his last statement in a pleading fashion.

"If you insist but I'm only doing this for you."

 _N_ _ot for Dumbledore,_ she mused. She raised herself out of her chair.

"The Weasley's are still coming tomorrow, right?"

"As far as I know, that's the plan," Lupin said.

"Good. Well, I'm off to bed. Would you mind asking Kreacher to stay out of my room at night. Three times this week I've woken up to him scurrying about. It's creepy."

Eleanor remembered the previous night with a shudder, in which the first thing she had seen upon opening her eyes was Kreacher staring up at her from beside the bed. He was quite startling to look at, especially at three in the morning when you're least expecting him.

"Little freak," Sirius muttered, with a hint of amusement in his eyes, "I'll order him to stay out. Oh, and Eleanor..."

She turned back around at the foot of the steps, looking at her godfathers.

"For the record, I think you're right. About Harry," he added, "it doesn't change anything, but I'm glad you went to see him while you could. James would've thought so too."

With a genuine smile back at Sirius, she bounced up the short set of stairs and headed toward her room on the top floor. She distantly heard Lupin reprimanding Sirius for his comment. She had assumed Sirius's viewpoint, but it was still nice to hear him say it out loud. Although it would have been nicer if he had said in front of Dumbledore.

 _Tomorrow,_ she thought hopefully as she entered her bedroom _,_ _tomorrow brings the Weasleys._


	2. Requiem for a Dream

Eleanor dreamed she was seven. She was sitting in the forbidden forest rolling a Quaffle through the grass to Charlie Weasley. The sunlight forced its way through a gap in the trees, illuminating the small clearing in which they sat. She could hear the glistening of a distant creek flowing downstream. Birds were landing in the trees overhead, twittering to each other. They were singing the tune of a familiar song. Young Eleanor paused and listened. It sounded like the song she had danced to at the Yule Ball with...

Eleanor shook her head. The Yule Ball hadn't happened yet. She was only seven. The tune reverted back to normal, nothing more than simple chirps. That was much better. The grass she sat on irritated her bare legs. She scooched over to a patch of a dirt and sat with her legs perched below her. The forbidden forest wasn't scary. How could a place barren of people be frightening?

Charlie was twelve. He had just made Gryffindor seeker. The Quaffle she rolled to him veered slightly left. He was distracted, looking out into the forest with a yearning in his eyes. He reached haphazardly toward the Quaffle, pulling it in by his fingertips. A twig snapped behind him and he swung his head around.

"And you're sure unicorns live in the forest?" Charlie looked back at her, his face aglow in boyish excitement, "I really want to see one."

Eleanor nodded her head earnestly. She reached her hands out toward the Quaffle, indicating for him to push it back to her. Charlie obliged and the Quaffle rolled in a perfectly straight path ending before her knees. She picked it up and tossed it between her hands. Charlie continued to look around the forest excitedly. 

"Do you want to practice stunning spells? I just learned them in class. I'll let you have a go at me if you don't cry when I stun you," Charlie said.

He began to sing a song under his breath " _Can you dance like a hippogriff? Na na na..._ _"_ No that was wrong, she was jumping ahead again. That was the song from the ball. The singing was replaced by the humming of some muggle song she had long forgotten the name of. This was correct.

"The unicorns won't come if we shout spells. We can practice later though."

Eleanor pushed the Quaffle back toward Charlie. It veered off course by a few feet and he had to stand up to retrieve it.

"No, you need to be practicing. This is more important than catching unicorns, Eleanor. What if a Death Eater comes and you burst the forest into flames? That'll kill all the unicorns anyways. We will watch you practice."

Charlie had vanished. In his place stood Sirius. He was holding the Quaffle in his hands. He threw it back her softly. Eleanor was still seven, but her voice was seventeen.

"This isn't how it went. You're ruining one of my favorites," She said gloomily, dropping the Quaffle to the ground, "I like this memory. Bring Charlie back. This was the first time he ever saw a unicorn. It should show up in a few minutes if you want to stay and watch. It'll be just behind me, next to the tree that branches into a U."

She pointed a finger toward the tree the unicorn would be appearing at soon, as long as Sirius hadn't ruined it. She looked back at Sirius and noticed he had tears in his eyes.

"I should have known you would pick the Weasleys over me eventually."

"What? No! You can stay, please stay! I just... I just like this memory. I was so happy this day. Can't I just let the memory play out? I'll practice with you later," Eleanor pleaded.

_Snap._

A twig broke loudly over her shoulder. She looked back at the U-bended tree to see a beautiful, pearly white unicorn standing there, munching on whatever grew below.

"Shit! Ellie, do you see it!"

She looked back to where Sirius had been. Charlie had reappeared and was sitting with the Quaffle in his lap. His eyes were wide and his joy contagious. He was trying to stay as still as possible but was bouncing ever so slightly. She smiled at Charlie and put her finger to her lips to quiet him. She was seven. She was happy. 


	3. Breakfast at Grimmauld's

Eleanor awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. Whether this was due to a peaceful night's sleep or the Weasleys' imminent arrival, she was unsure. All she knew for certain was that she felt better than she had in months.

She took a great deal of time getting ready before heading downstairs for breakfast. Eleanor had taken a liking to muggle fashion. It was one way in which she could pay homage to her mother's memory. In every picture Eleanor had seen of her mom, Lily had been wearing muggle clothing. So, now Eleanor wore muggle clothes with the same sense of pride Lily had. Neither of them ashamed of their roots. In her third year, Harry taught her how to dress appropriately in muggle clothing. In her fifth year, she started exchanging galleons for muggle money at Gringotts in order to buy from muggle owned stores in London. She even caught herself stealing still-framed picture fashion magazines from Aunt Petunia during her recent journeys to see Harry. Not to mention, this form of dressing only further infuriated blood purists like the Malfoys. Eleanor viewed this as a win-win situation.

After fifteen minutes of hard deliberation, she picked out a long-sleeved black dress, under which she placed a white-collared button down shirt. Harry liked to tell her that this outfit reminded him of some muggle-television character Dudley watched secretly. She didn't remember the name, nor did she completely understand what a television show was, but apparently it revolved around an odd family of sorts. The Dursleys had outlawed the programming in their household as they found it "went against proper moral standards" although Dudley watched it regardless. Eleanor believed it a compliment to appear similarly to something the Dursleys resented. She wasn't completely sure if Harry meant it as a compliment though.

Finally, after taking even more time perfecting her hair and makeup, she bounded down the stairs to the basement to grab breakfast. Lupin sat in the same seat he had the night before, now reading the _Daily Prophet._ She could hear Sirius humming through the swinging door past the dining area.

"You look nice today, Eleanor," Lupin remarked kindly, peering over the newspaper at her.

Sirius walked into the dining area, levitating their breakfast in front of him as he went. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance with a smirk. Eleanor felt her face flush in embarrassment.

"Thanks, Lupin."

She made sure to put a great deal of emphasis on Lupin's name before shooting Sirius a look of annoyance.

"And thank you _Sirius_ for making me breakfast," Sirius said, mocking her in a high-pitched voice.

Eleanor rolled her eyes but nodded at him as she accepted her breakfast with a smile.

"Why didn't you just have Kreacher make breakfast?" Eleanor asked before taking a bite of toast. 

"I'm fairly sure he burns the food on purpose, it never tastes quite right," Sirius said with a shrug, "I've managed without a house elf for fifteen years now, I can surely manage making breakfast. Anything worth reading there, Moony?"

Lupin shook his head before putting the paper down and diving into his own breakfast.

"I was thinking that before the Weasleys turn up today we should-" Sirius began.

"Clean?" Eleanor asked.

"Shower?" Lupin added.

"Excuse me!" Sirius looked between the two of them incredulously but he was smiling all the same. "This house is a wreck, but I refuse to take the blame. Kreacher hasn't touched anything since the house was vacated. It needs a good dusting, sure..."

"It needs to be purged, if not burnt to a crisp entirely."

"Well, I won't argue with you there Eleanor," Sirius laughed, "secondly, I showered yesterday, so I don't appreciate the insinuation."

"Maybe a haircut then?" Lupin said lightheartedly.

"Oh, could I do it! I'll cut your hair Sirius," Eleanor grinned.

"The pair of you need to shut it," Sirius said with a shake of his hair, "I think it makes me look quite handsome..."

"I have another word in mind but..."

"I will have no more of this slander to my hair!" Sirius said poking his fork in Eleanor's direction. "As I was saying, before they arrive, I think we should do a small bit of what I would like to call _Eleanor Emotion Training."_

"Great, you gave it a name," Eleanor muttered under her breath, poking at her eggs.

"Lupin and I have been looking into it, as we said last night. We can try the deep-breathing thing again, but personally that would never work for me. When I'm angry, I'm beyond reason. I don't think I'm wrong in assuming you're similar to me in that way. Now Remus has looked into something some muggles do called medilation..."

"Meditation," Lupin corrected.

"That's what I said. Anyway, I don't know a lot about it, but Remus did extensive research. He also suggested muggle theraptity..."

"Therapy."

"I don't hear the difference, Moony. It's like... what is it like again?"

"It's essentially seeing a healer for your mind. There has been talk in recent years of implementing muggle talk therapy in the wizarding community. It may be more beneficial in the long-term than the drowsy potions that are often used for these matters. Of course, there's been a lot of pushback against such ideas. Many wizards still believe that nothing muggles have created can compare to what we have, but I disagree," Lupin explained.

"How would healing my brain or whatever help with my ability to control my magic?"

"Er, well..." Lupin took a moment before continuing, clearly trying to find the best way to phrase his thoughts, "there's a link between magical control issues and trauma. Especially trauma that occurred early in life."

"Which you can't argue, you have gone through Eleanor," Sirius added sadly.

"Lupin's gone through trauma too! He's not all messed up in the head," Eleanor argued hotly.

She knew they meant well, but she did not want any pity. Yes, she had watched her parents die. And well yes, there was that nasty business with the Malfoy family. Memories started to seep through her in flashes. She shook her head slightly, as if to throw them out of her mind.

"You're right, I have dealt with my fair share of trauma too," Lupin said quietly, "and while I appreciate your belief in my sanity, I do find myself to be quite 'messed up in the head' as you so eloquently put it. The difference is that I don't possess the magical capabilities that you seem to."

Eleanor opened her mouth to argue, but Lupin shook his head to silence her.

"I was your professor for a year, Eleanor. It is obvious to everyone that this comes much easier to you than it does to others. Your abilities, combined with the things you have experienced, seem to make it harder for you to control yourself."

"I still don't get how this relates back to muggle therapy..."

"I'm getting to that. If you were to talk about everything that has happened, as I'm told they do in therapy-"

"I'm not talking about any of it."

"-there could be potential to resolve some of the emotions that heighten your reactions," Lupin continued as though he had not heard her, "which could lessen the outbursts."

"Therapy sounds like it would be a last resort," Sirius added hastily, "since we would have to find a wizard theraptitst because a muggle one would be quite confused. I'm not sure how many wizards practice such treatment."

Eleanor nodded but she still felt rather uncomfortable. Did they think her so unwell that they would find a specialized wizard to deal with her?

"First I thought we could try my suggestion, where we transform the outburst into something less danger-"

Sirius stopped speaking. He furrowed his brow as if listening hard. Eleanor looked at him puzzled before she heard the sound of footsteps from the floor above. The three of them stood up abruptly, abandoning their forks to be replaced with their wands. Sirius and Lupin walked slowly toward the small set of stairs leading to the upstairs landing, wands pointed out before them. When they got to the bottom of the stairs however, they both let out a sigh.

"You scared us, Molly. I didn't expect you until later today," Sirius called up the stairwell.

Eleanor perked up. She had been waiting for the Weasleys to visit ever since her arrival at Grimmauld Place. She jumped forward to look up the darkened stairwell and saw Mrs. Weasley standing at the top. Behind her stood her fiercely red-headed children, craning their necks to look down. Pushing past Sirius and Lupin, Eleanor ran up the stairs, quickly greeting Mrs. Weasley with a breathless smile, before moving to throw her arms around the twins.

"This is where you've been all summer?" George asked, pulling back from her grip and glancing around the hallway in which they stood. "How quaint!"

"Shh!"

Mrs. Weasley shushed George and pointed for them all to move down into the kitchen. George appeared perplexed, wondering what he had done this time to warrant a scolding, before following her down. The rest of the Weasley's smiled at Eleanor as they passed, patting her in greeting. Eleanor realized she still had her hand on Fred's arm, but she didn't let go until the last of the Weasley's had climbed down the stairs. Looking up at Fred, they exchanged a brief smile, before following the lead of his family.

"You have to be quiet in that hallway," Mrs. Weasley informed her children, "trust me. I apologize that we're so early Sirius. The kids wanted to get going, especially those two," she pointed toward the twins, "and I didn't think you'd mind."

"Of course not! The more the merrier," Sirius said happily, clearing the table of their breakfast with a flick of his wand.

"I can show everyone to their rooms!" Eleanor said brightly.

She looked around the room. Mr. Weasley wasn't present, but she was sure he was just at work. Apart from him, the only two missing were Charlie and Percy. She wasn't surprised by either absence. Charlie lived in Romania and she hadn't expected him to quit his job and run back the second he heard Voldemort had risen again. She thought him safer in Romania anyway. She assumed Percy, like his father, was at the ministry working. Percy took his career very seriously. She strongly doubted he would miss a day of work for anything short of his own demise. If she was being honest, she wasn't disappointed by his absence. She found herself dreading their every interaction as of recent. Flashes of a memory came flooding back to her, making her stomach churn, but she suppressed it.

She was surprised to see the eldest Weasley son, Bill, had accompanied them. She assumed him to be off in Egypt where Gringotts had stationed him. It made her slightly uneasy that Bill had chosen to remain in London. He must have determined that current developments were serious enough for him to give up his post.

"That would be quite nice, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled at her warmly, "after everyone has unpacked, make your way back here so we can discuss some things with everyone. But first, Bill and I need to speak with Sirius and Lupin. _Privately_ please."

Eleanor nodded and motioned for the twins, Ron, and Ginny to follow her back up the stairs.

"Grab your trunks," Eleanor instructed in a whisper.

"Why can't we just levitate them up?" Fred whispered back, looking slightly annoyed at the thought of physical labor.

"You'll bang them into something. Oh, don't give me that look Fred. You'll send it flying into the wall and wake her up," Eleanor responded.

Fred had given her an idea though. She levitated all the trunks, one by one, up the stairs to the second landing. She dropped them back to the floor as gently as she could.

"Wake who up?" Ron asked in a scared whisper.

Eleanor ignored him, and climbed up the stairs, the rest following in turn.

"Ron, you're this one on the right. It's all yours for now but as soon as Harry gets here you have to share."

Ron nodded and heaved his trunk into his room as quietly as he could.

"Okay Ginny, you're the room next to that one on the left. You'll be sharing with Hermione once she gets here."

"She is here," Ginny said quietly.

Eleanor turned on the spot to see Hermione behind her, looking cross that she hadn't been noticed. Eleanor gave a feeble, apologetic smile.

"Sorry Hermione, didn't see you there. I wasn't expecting you until later. I assumed Harry would get here before you did."

Hermione still appeared slightly annoyed but kicked her trunk toward her room without another word.

"You two are up one more floor," Eleanor said looking at the twins. She took out her wand and moved their trunks up to the next floor into the room directly in front of the stairwell.

Once the three of them reached the room that had been granted to Fred and George, Eleanor closed the door behind them.

"I got you a room with a window. Not all the rooms have one, and it feels rather gloomy if they don't." She said, flinging herself down onto one of the beds and propping herself up with her elbows.

"Gloomy? Here? Come off it," Fred said, sitting down next to her on the bed. George collapsed onto the bed opposite, laying down with his hands resting behind his head.

"What's with all the whispering in the hallway?" George asked.

"Oh, Sirius's dear, old mum commissioned a portrait of herself to watch over the house after her death. Sirius tried to hide her with an old curtain to keep her quiet but if she hears us, she loses her mind. She'll scream bloody murder about Sirius being a disappointment and how he disrespected his 'oh so noble blood line' by associating with half-blood filth and werewolves. She doesn't seem to like us very much, least of all Sirius," said Eleanor with a shrug.

"She sounds absolutely lovely," George grimaced, "I didn't know Sirius came from a family of Death Eaters."

"His brother, Regulus, was a Death Eater, but I don't think his parents outright declared themselves for Voldemort. I'm sure they supported him all the same, though."

In the past, whenever Eleanor dared to mutter Voldemort's name, the twins had instinctively flinched. Time had eroded their knee-jerk reaction, but they still refused to say the name themselves. She hoped that sooner or later they would move past this. Nothing annoyed her more than people's refusal to say the name Voldemort. Living in fear of something as simple as a name only benefitted Voldemort himself.

"I'm guessing they had favorite child," Fred said, "Regulus must be the Bill of the Black family."

"You think Bill's the favorite? I would have said Ginny," said George thoughtfully.

"That's only because Ginny's a girl, not to mention the youngest. If you were to only consider personality and achievements, it's Bill for sure."

"What about Percy?" asked George.

"Please, Bill is the blueprint. Everything Bill ever did became Percy's wildest desire. Prefect, check. Head Boy, check. Perfect OWLS, check. There's really no point in arguing with me about it when it's so obvious that I'm right," said Fred with a tone of finality.

George opened his mouth to argue, considered Fred's words, and then nodded in agreement.

"Regulus was certainly the favorite before he died. Though, Sirius says Regulus died after he tried to back out of being a death eater. Sirius assumes he fell in too deep and ran scared. If that news ever got back to their mother, I don't know how she would have handled it. Probably ended up wishing she never bore children," Eleanor interrupted.

She knew soon enough their conversation would take a turn to who the least favorite was – them or Ron. It depressed her greatly, but they never let her argue on their behalf. Neither did they seem to care when Eleanor stated that they were her personal favorites, with Ron coming in at a remarkably close second.

"Damn," whistled Fred, "poor Sirius."

"He's letting me stay in Regulus's old room, but he won't go in there himself. I wish he didn't have to live here," said Eleanor sadly.

"I don't think I could ever go into our room again if Freddie died, even if he turned out to be in a murderous cult," said George.

They were all quiet for a minute.

"I was surprised to see Bill," Eleanor said suddenly, hoping to brighten the conversation, "thought he would be back in Egypt by now."

"He applied for a desk job so he could be in the Order. Charlie's in the Order too but he's still in Romania. He's doing recruiting for Dumbledore, but Bill was deemed important enough to stay here. I don't know the reasoning behind it, honestly the whole thing is a bit confusing," George responded, looking at the ceiling, "but that's not the Weasley you should be surprised about."

"What?"

"Please George, it's Percy. It isn't that surprising," Fred retorted, with an air of indifference in his voice.

"Percy?" Eleanor felt her stomach drop. The memory she suppressed earlier came storming back, this time more forcefully. She turned quickly to look at Fred. No matter the tone of his voice, his face betrayed anger. Her heart clenched.

"Yeah, Percy. He basically told us all to fuck off," said George. He wasn't trying to play anything off. In fact, he sounded quite resentful. "He told dad that he is going to stand with the ministry and that if dad doesn't, he's a fool. He went off about Dumbledore being manipulative, and how Harry and you are... lying, I guess. He never said that outright, but it was implied. You should have seen mum; she was beside herself. Perfect Percy acting anything but..."

Eleanor could no longer hear him. She didn't know if she should feel relieved that Percy's issue didn't directly involve her, or angry that he was being an asshole to his family. She felt guilty that her relief was overpowering her displeasure. The memory, however, was becoming louder and louder, raging for an audience. She tried to repress it, but nothing was working _._ She found herself stuck on a single thought before the memory engulfed her whole.

_Fred may not know it, but this is your fault._


	4. Percy (I.)

_Click, click, click._

The corridor was so much colder than the Great Hall had been. Eleanor could see her breath pouring out in small wisps as she walked quickly down the hall, maneuvering around happy couples. She wanted to get as much distance between herself and the hall as humanly possible. She could feel the tears she had been holding back stinging in her eyes. She'd have to find an empty classroom soon or she would explode into sobs right smack in the middle of the school, for anyone to see.

_Click, click, click._

Her heels were _so loud_. If Peeves heard her coming, he would certainly rush after her, making matters much worse. Her heel caught the hem of her emerald dress and she tripped, catching herself just in time on the wall. She could no longer hold it in. She staggered, blurry eyed, into the first classroom on her left.

The moment she closed the door behind herself, a desperate sob escaped past her lips. She pressed her hands to her face, tears streaming behind her fingers. Blindly guiding herself through the room, she stumbled over to the desk at the very front. She was finding it hard to keep herself upright, her whole body now shaking with every sob. Her arms collapsed upon the desk, her legs folding beneath her. She shrank slowly to the floor, hugging her chest tight. A part of her worried that now that she had started crying, she would never be able to stop.

Everything hurt. Everything. Her throat felt constricted from stifling her cries for so long. Her eyes stung under mascara laced tears. She was worried she would puke if she kept on crying in this manner. She had been nauseous the whole night, but her sobs were triggering her gag reflex. Her heart felt like it had been ripped from her body, torn into a million, tiny pieces, and then carelessly stowed back inside her chest. Every particle of her being seemed so weak. Physically, she wasn't sure how she would make it back up to her dormitory, not that she was keen to go back anytime soon. Emotionally, she could no longer endure how heartbroken she felt. A small part of herself hated that she was crying this hard over a boy. Over a stupid, stupid boy.

 _He danced with her all night,_ she thought miserably. _All night. There had been no compliments, no requests for a dance, not even a single look in my general direction. He must love her. Certainly, I should have seen this coming. I mean they've been fucking all year! But he'd been fucking every girl in the sixth year, hadn't he? How could I have expected him to decide definitively on her. Of course, he hadn't been fucking me, so why I ever considered myself an option, who's to say._

She had never felt so stupid, so worthless in her entire life. She hadn't even wanted to go to the Yule Ball if she wasn't going to go with him. Ron had been the one that convinced her to go in the end. 

_Show him up!_ He had said _._

_Well, it looked like she hadn't shown anyone up at all. She wanted to rip her goddamn dress off her body and throw it off the top of the astronomy tower._

"Eleanor?"

Eleanor jumped up off the ground, stumbling backwards into the desk she had been leaning on. Her eyes blurry, she wasn't sure who had called her name. She heard the classroom door close behind the intruder as she wiped tears off her face furiously, trying to regain some resemblance of composure.

"Oh, hi Percy," She said weakly, after clearing her vision.

Percy stood at the door, surveying her with discomfort. He walked slowly in her direction, passing through the web of student desks. At last, he stopped behind a desk directly opposite her. He rapped it with his knuckles a few times, still looking quite uneasy. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm." That was the best she could muster, as she choked back a dry sob. Her sadness was slowly fading to embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

"I... Well, I saw you leave the dance and, er, you looked pretty upset so I thought..."

"I meant," she said slowly, trying hard not to start crying again, "why are you here at the Yule Ball?"

"Oh! Um, my boss, Barty Crouch as you know, well... he hasn't been feeling well recently, so he sent me in his place. It's his workload you see. They overwork him at the Ministry because they know how reliable he is. No one else can do their job quite like he can. I mean look at Bagman, he's all for these games but he hasn't put any real work into them. I'm glad Crouch realized he can lean on me through all of this..." Percy's words drifted off, his gaze shifting from Eleanor, to the ground, then back to Eleanor again.

Eleanor nodded, biting her bottom lip in discomfort. Her tears had almost entirely stopped. She hoped he wouldn't tell anyone that he had found her crying hysterically by herself tonight. She wracked her brain for some story to tell Percy. Any reasonable explanation for her current state would do, as long as it was not the truth.

"Is this about, er, Cedric?" Percy asked quietly.

"What? Um... I..." 

She had responded too fast. Cedric would be a great cover; she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of him. She wasn't sure the twins would believe Percy if they were told she had been crying over Cedric, but it was best she could think of.

"If it is, I just want to say that... well, he's... he's quite... he's an idiot. How he decided to pass you up always mystified me. I didn't believe anyone when they told me how he dumped you last year. I mean you're... you."

Eleanor's stomach dropped. The nausea she had felt earlier washed over her again. This time she was certain she would vomit if she opened her mouth.

_Oh, please don't Percy, please, please, please..._

"I was actually, um, excited to hear I would be here for the Yule Ball. I was hoping to see you and, er..."

"See your brothers and Ginny too, of course... A family reunion," sputtered Eleanor, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

"Well, you more so than my brothers, they can be quite bothersome..."

"Percy, this really isn't the time..."

He tried to look into her eyes, but she shifted her gaze away. She couldn't handle this tonight, not after everything else.

"Please let me say this, Eleanor. I know you may not see it right now, but I have always thought so highly of you. We were both prefects, and I'm sure you will get Head Girl next year. You're incredibly talented. I mean, I never met another witch with your liking the entire time I was at Hogwarts. It's just... I care a lot about you, and not in the way I think I should. I don't look at you the way I look at Ginny. You're important to me. You always stood up for me with Fred and George. They get you into so much trouble here..."

"No, they don't Percy. They don't force me to do anything. I play pranks with them because _I_ want to. Sometimes it's me who pushes things too far-"

"And maybe I need someone like that in my life!" Percy was starting to look at her with a hint of desperation. "I don't know, I can be such a rule follower sometimes... Maybe I need someone who pushes me out of my comfort zone. And you, you might need someone who can rein you in a bit. Opposites attract and all..."

"Percy, I am so sorry, I-"

"I think I might be in love with you," said Percy with a sudden burst of determination.

Silence ensued. Eleanor's mind went blank. She had absolutely no idea what to say. This was by far one of the worst nights she had experienced at Hogwarts.

"I... Percy, I'm really sorry, I just..."

"Maybe if you thought about it-"

"I'm in love with someone else," said Eleanor quietly. It was the truth, although Percy wasn't aware that this fact was unfortunate for both him and her.

For a second, if only a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in love with Percy Weasley. They were just _so_ _different._ She cared about him, but only in the way you care about a family member. He always treated her like a nuisance. If she were honest, she never would have seen this coming. Was she to blame for being so blind? Should she have done something differently? She thought she treated him the same way Fred and George did. Suddenly, a switch flipped in her brain.

"Did Fred put you up to this?" she asked.

From his reaction, the answer was a clear no. That had been the wrong thing to say. Percy opened his mouth but seemed frozen. She had clearly insulted him, and she had no idea how to make it better. God, she was going about this in entirely the wrong way.

"You're still in love with Cedric?" he asked, after a moment.

 _Yes_ _,_ she thought. _Just lie! Tell him you aren't over Cedric. Tell him it will always be Cedric. Tell him that maybe if he had said something sooner things could be different. Just say yes!_

She tried to speak but couldn't get the words out. They were stuck in her throat, along with the bile she was trying so hard to keep down. Finally, she shook her head no and looked at the ground.

"No you're not in love with Cedric or no you're not in love with anyone. You don't have to lie to me Eleanor," he said angrily.

"No, it's not Cedric," she whimpered.

Percy stared at her; his jaw clenched tightly. He was opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. It was unlike Percy to be at a loss for words, and she felt horrible that she was the one doing this to him. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably below her.

Suddenly, a look of realization came over Percy. He drew a sharp breath and pinched the brim of his nose, eyes closed. He took a moment before glancing back at her, his eyes now full of disgust.

"Please do not tell me you are in love with _him_ _!"_ growled Percy.

Percy didn't need to say the name, they both knew exactly who he was talking about.

"I... I didn't mean to..."

"I think you are smart enough to realize that we all have some control over who we love, Eleanor!" Percy spat. "I didn't think so low of you that you would desire the love of someone like... someone like him! He will never, ever love you Eleanor. He doesn't understand what that means, he's always been selfish and impulsive-"

"He's never been selfish!" Eleanor shot back; tears were stinging in her eyes again but this time from anger.

"You think you know him so well," laughed Percy, although it was obvious that he didn't find any of this to be remotely funny, "but I grew up with him! He is selfish. He's reckless too, no one knows that better than you do. He wastes his life away doing nothing productive. He couldn't provide for you the way I could!"

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Eleanor realized she was starting to cry again. She knew she had hurt Percy's pride, but she didn't know why he felt the need to attack her like this. It seemed cruel.

"You can't begin to understand how sorry I am..."

"Was he the one you were crying over?" Percy rounded on her; his eyes wide.

Eleanor didn't speak, but her silence was an answer.

"How pathetic of you. Well, this certainly makes it much easier for me to realize I was mistaken. Unlike you, I have control over my emotions. I can't believe I tried to convince myself I loved you."

Percy turned back toward the door. Eleanor wanted to tell him to stay, so she could somehow fix whatever the hell had just happened, but she didn't. She was too exhausted to force him to listen to her.

His hand on the doorknob, he stopped, looking back at her for a final time.

"You, in love with Fred, I thought you were smarter than that."

_\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Earth to Eleanor."

Fred's voice came cutting through her thoughts, snapping her out of her daze. Both of the Weasley twins were staring at her expectantly.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Do you really have nothing to say about Percy?" Fred asked, bewildered.

"Oh, well I mean..." she looked over to George for an out, but he was looking determinedly at the ceiling, "it's like you said Fred. It's Percy. I guess it's not entirely surprising that he would believe Fudge over my brother and I."

"But it isn't only you and Harry. He doesn't believe his own family! Everyone's always going on about how smart he is..."

Fred was rampaging on about Percy's betrayal. She had never told Fred that Percy had confronted her the night of the Yule Ball and she wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon. Some of the things Percy had said about Fred that night were frankly unforgivable. George, taking Fred's rant as an opportunity, finally looked at Eleanor. They shared a fleeting glance of mutual understanding, before he faced back toward the ceiling.

"Are you guys talking about Percy?" Ron asked, bursting into the room without warning.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Fred snapped.

"Yeah, they just filled me in," Eleanor said, grateful for Ron's presence, "your poor parents."

"I have never seen Dad so angry. I don't entirely miss Percy but still, he's our brother," sighed Ron as he sat on the foot of George's bed. George, apparently annoyed at the loss of foot space, kicked Ron sharply in the side, extracting a grunt of pain from his brother.

"We should probably get back to the kitchen," Eleanor said, watching as Ron swung back his arm in an attempt to hit George in the leg, "maybe we can overhear the end of whatever conversation your mum and Sirius are having."

They all nodded, getting up from their spots. Fred and Ron started bickering on their way down the stairs over something Eleanor couldn't make out.

"It's not your fault you know," George whispered in her ear.

She turned to look at him. He looked down the stairwell, making sure that Fred was distracted with Ron before mouthing _Percy_. Eleanor shook her head frantically, refusing to discuss the subject any further. He rolled his eyes, looking as though he were going to elaborate, when – 

_C_ _rack!_

She apparated to the foot of the stairs, away from George, and right in front of Ron and Fred. Ron gave a small shout of surprise before tumbling down the last few stairs, waking Mrs. Black's portrait. Over the screams of _'Blood Traitors and filth, walking the halls of MY family home'_ George would have no luck engaging her in any Percy related conversations. Satisfied with this, she twirled away to the basement. 


	5. The Order of the Shaggy Dog

The following week passed without incidence. Mrs. Weasley decided that the house needed a deep cleanse. Eleanor strongly agreed, especially since Sirius and Lupin were to live there alone once she left. They spent most of their time purging the house of dust and dark artifacts. If she wasn't cleaning, she was left with unsuccessful attempts to spy on order meetings with the rest of the teens in the house or having Sirius and Lupin tutor her in control techniques. Overall, everyday felt like meaningless, yet tiresome, work.

Eleanor had done as she was told and stayed put at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Every day, she wrote Harry letters void of anything he truly desired. She knew how he must feel receiving her small notes, which gave no real news or answers to his questions.

_There hasn't been any disturbing news, I promise._

_The rest I'll have to explain as soon as I'm allowed to see you again._

_Everyone's still alive, that's the only thing I've got._

_I don't think anyone really knows what's going on._

_They haven't told me much anyway._

_I'm sorry._

_Not much is going on, I spend most my time cleaning._

_I keep asking when you can leave Privet Drive, no answers._

_I'm really sorry._

She wondered if he would stop opening her letters soon. They always contained the same sentences, simply arranged differently each time. She kept meaning to ask Fred and George to investigate new kinds of invisible ink for their potential joke shop. If the three of them invented something trustworthy, maybe she could use that to send Harry letters.

She hadn't mentioned to him that she was now with the Weasleys. When she had been using apparition to see him, she absentmindedly told him she was staying with Sirius and Lupin. She regretted that instantly, the broken look of jealousy on his face was enough to make her cry. Ron and Hermione being here without him would be the cherry on top of his mental breakdown.

So, she spent most of her time flipping between not thinking about Harry to avoid the massive weight of guilt she felt to telling herself that she must sit in her remorse as a punishment for being so useless to him. Every time she laughed with Fred or George, she reminded herself that Harry probably hadn't laughed in a month. Whenever Sirius and Lupin mentored her magical abilities, she contemplated how much Harry would give for Lupin to teach him again. It had gotten so bad that she could not spend a single second in Ron's presence without feeling shame that it should be Harry with him, not her. The effect of this being that she snapped at Ron and Hermione for simply breathing. Both were currently avoiding her at all costs. She felt bad, especially because Ron seemed to believe he had done something to personally offend her, but it was no matter; she continued with her behavior anyway.

She was receiving a temporary pass for her irritable temperament, as the Weasleys (and Hermione) contributed it to Cedric's passing. They weren't going to argue with her when they believed her to be deep in grief. The truth of the matter, unfortunately, was that she hadn't even began the grieving process, and she worried significantly for the state of her relationships once she did.

On this particular evening, she found herself in the drawing room with Sirius and Remus, trying for the millionth time to control the way in which her uncontrollable magic manifested itself. The problem was, she had no issue manifesting a harmless firework out of flames when she wasn't overtly emotional. She had just burst a small, wolf shaped firework over Lupin's head when Fred and George entered the room.

"Woah, that's cool. Did you create that in some sort of packaging or just through your wand?" George asked, as the blue, sparkling wolf firework looped throughout the room over their heads. 

"Wand," Eleanor said casually.

She picked up her wand and put out the firework with a swish.

"I'm sure we could figure out how you did that and make it purchasable. It must be pretty similar to the dragon firework we created," said Fred thoughtfully.

"Well boys, it was nice of you to drop in but we're in the middle of-" Sirius began.

"They can stay, I don't mind," said Eleanor.

Sirius gave her a look that screamed _you-won't-try-at-all-if-they're-here,_ but she shrugged. It didn't feel like they were making much progress anyway. Both men had been trying to say things that would trigger a reaction out of her, but most of the time hearing it come from either of them made her laugh. She knew they didn't mean it, and they refused to make any under-the-belt remarks.

"Oh, is this Eleanor's impulse control training or whatever, because she's told us about it and no offense, but it sounds like something I can skip out on," George said.

"I like it when she blows stuff up, it's funny," shrugged Fred.

"You wouldn't like it if she blew you up one of these days," Lupin said with a frown.

Lupin always enjoyed talking to Fred and George when he taught them in their fifth year, but he knew best that their trio was incredibly annoying to instruct. He never gave them detention but took points from Gryffindor most lessons.

"Fair point," countered Fred, "we'll stay."

Lupin and Sirius exchanged a look. Eleanor could tell they wished the twins would leave.

"Excellent! Then please close the door behind you so we can initiate you into the order of the shaggy dog," Eleanor said with a smile.

"Wait, the what?" laughed George.

"The order of the shaggy dog. That's what I like to call our meetings. If Dumbledore can name the resistance after a symbol associated with himself, then I can name a small subgroup of said resistance after Sirius," she said simply.

"I want to explicitly state that I in no way, shape, or form came up with the name nor did I endorse it," Sirius said, "although I'm not complaining, it does have a nice ring to it."

Fred and George laughed.

"How do we become initiated?"

"It's a horribly difficult process. You must first dance naked in a pasture on a full moon – I am exempt, it's only required for male members. Then you must sacrifice your first-born son to our one true idol, Kreacher. We don't know what he does with the babies, but we assume it's not suitable to be spoken of in the light of day. Lastly, you pledge your allegiance to the stray dogs of the world and to Kreacher. Are you willing?" Eleanor looked imploringly at the twins.

"That's actually perfect, as George and I already dance naked every full moon. The Kreacher thing is a bit concerning, but it's a price I'm personally willing to pay," said Fred with complete sincerity. "What do you think Georgie?"

"What if I never have a son of my own?" asked George.

"Kreacher takes pity on those who don't leave an heir. You won't be charged."

"Is there a vow we're supposed to say? Like _, I pledge allegiance to my dearest daddy Kreacher-"_ Fred began.

"Okay, that's enough," Lupin said sternly, but he couldn't suppress his smile. Sirius was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face.

Fred seemed to have taken pride in making Sirius laugh. He looked over at Eleanor and winked, causing a storm of butterflies to rise in her stomach.

"So how do we actually help Eleanor learn whatever it is she's trying to learn?" asked Fred.

"Well first we have to evoke an emotional response from her, which we haven't successfully done yet," said Lupin, "we know Eleanor can purposefully set a fire, collect it into a ball of flame, and explode said ball into a single firework-"

"Wicked," breathed Fred.

"-but we don't know if she can do it when she didn't start the fire consciously."

"So basically, we're trying to piss her off?" asked George, smiling sinisterly, "you should have invited us earlier, we can totally help with that."

"Just get Ron in here. I don't know why but lately I think she might about kill him if he says the wrong thing," laughed Fred.

Eleanor felt a jolt of shame regarding her treatment towards Ron.

"No, Ron won't do. He's just being a git, that's all," she muttered, "but Snape would. I fucking hate Snape."

"That's true," George said thoughtfully, "you've burst plenty of jars in potions. Then there was that time you burst my cauldron into flames. That somehow landed _me_ in detention _."_

"That's because Severus Snape is an insufferable asshole," said Sirius, "but don't tell your mother I said that George. It's a good idea, but for personal reasons, I'm vetoing any suggestion that includes spending extra time with Severus."

Everyone laughed, except Lupin. He looked at Sirius disapprovingly.

"I'm looking for a more serious suggestion," said Lupin, "Eleanor, try to bring yourself back to a time you lost control. If you concentrate on how you felt in that moment-"

The rest of Lupin's sentence was cut off by the sudden screams of Mrs. Black's portrait. Sirius groaned and headed to the door to quiet his mother but just before he could reach it, the door swung open, missing his face by a centimeter.

There stood Arthur Weasley, looking entirely frazzled. His glasses were askew and sweat was dripping down his forehead. He was gasping for air as though he had run all the way from the Ministry to Grimmauld Place.

"It's Harry," Mr. Weasley gasped, trying to gather himself.

"Harry? Is he okay? What's wrong?" Eleanor asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Eleanor's heart sank to the lowest pit of her stomach. She looked wildly around to Sirius, who wore a similar expression of distress.

_Please don't let him be dead, he can't be dead, please..._

"Um..." said Mr. Weasley as he looked anxiously between Eleanor and the twins. It was apparent that he had not intended to share this news with them first.

"Spit it out," growled Sirius, the color completely drained from his face.

"He's been attacked by dementors," Mr. Weasley said.

"He's been what?" exclaimed George.

"Is he okay?!" Eleanor and Sirius demanded.

"Physically, I've been told he's fine. He produced a Patronus charm to drive them off, and the ministry obviously got word of that so they're currently in the process of trying to expel him."

Eleanor felt a small wave of relief that Harry was still alive, but it was instantly combatted by the dread that he was currently alone with the threat of expulsion. She was too confused by her emotions to properly speak. She gaped at Mr. Weasley for a second, trying to comprehend everything he had just said. Slightly faint, her knees started to give out. Fred reached forward and pulled her upright. She leaned against him; her eyes still fixed on Mr. Weasley.

"Dumbledore's at the Ministry right now, trying to reverse the automatic expulsion. I've just sent word to Harry that he must stay put at his aunt and uncle's house. Dumbledore was worried he might run for it if he thought they were taking his wand," Mr. Weasley continued, his breathing finally evening out.

"I'll write to him too," Sirius said abruptly, pushing past Arthur to grab a quill and parchment.

"The dementors have sided with Voldemort then?" Eleanor asked quietly.

"We aren't sure exactly what has happened," said Arthur, "but that seems likely."

Eleanor nodded her head slowly. Her mouth felt incredibly dry. She leaned further into Fred; his hands gripped tightly around her.

 _They should have brought him here sooner,_ she thought bitterly.

_I told them so, I told them so, I told them so..._

Sirius returned to the room, apparently having already sent the letter.

"Do you think Dumbledore will be able to convince them to hold off on expelling Harry?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Expel Harry? What are you talking about?"

Ron had appeared at the doorway, Hermione and Ginny at his heels.

"I don't have time to explain everything to you right now Ron," said Mr. Weasley, "I have to get back to the Ministry, but I need to speak to Sirius and Lupin alone first."

"Eleanor should stay, it's her brother you're talking about," she heard Fred argue angrily.

Her mind was finding it difficult to create sentences. She was grateful that Fred was fighting on her behalf.

"Fred, not now," said Mr. Weasley warningly.

"But-"

"Fred, what did I just say?"

Mr. Weasley didn't appear angry. On the contrary he looked too exhausted to argue. Fred must have sensed it too because he stopped arguing. Instead, he guided Eleanor out of the room, holding onto her very tightly.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked worriedly.

No one answered. Fred continued to hold Eleanor at his side. Held this close, all she could concentrate on was how comforting it felt that he was here for her. She felt her heartrate slow back down. Mrs. Black was still screaming, but the noise felt distant. No one had bothered to shut her up in the panic over Harry's safety. She would be okay if she just stayed with Fred.

 _I bet Harry hasn't calmed himself down yet,_ a resentful voice in her head said, interrupting her calm. _He doesn't have anyone to comfort him, but here you are letting Fred make you feel better. Harry deserves better than this._

Mrs. Black's screams came back into focus. She pulled abruptly away from Fred, her heartrate rising once more. He looked back at her surprised.

"I have to go," she said suddenly.

"Go? Go where?" Ron asked. He had gone pale in his confusion.

"Eleanor, you can't," George said desperately.

"I have to see Harry, and I'm going now. He needs something more than letters full of empty words!"

She forced her way past the group that was now crowded around the drawing room door. She would simply go out the front door, apparate to Privet Drive, check on Harry, and then be back before anyone noticed she had gone. It seemed like a good enough plan to her.

"Wait!" Fred said, grasping ahold of her arm before she could leave the house.

"Just cover for me," she pleaded in a whisper, "I have to do this. You would do the same if it were George."

He looked between her and George, his thought process playing out across his face. When he looked back into her eyes, she knew she was getting her way. He dropped his hand and watched her sprint out the door. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head as she reached the street in front of the dingy building, apparating without a second thought. 


	6. An Evans Family Reunion

_Crack!_

Eleanor reappeared right in the middle of Privet Drive's perfectly manicured lawn. She should have been more careful to avoid any unsuspecting muggles, but she had thrown caution to the wind. She walked through the lawn, knowing perfectly well that she was destroying it, and up the front stoop. Taking the entire length of her arm, she pounded upon the front door until it flung open.

Eleanor's previous interactions with her aunt and uncle had been brief and rather unpleasant. These included:

  1. The day she had come with Hagrid to deliver Harry his first Hogwarts letter. That had been her first-time seeing Harry since they were small, and her first-time ever meeting the Dursleys. _Experience- 5/10 (only rated so highly because of her excitement to see her brother)_
  2. The times in which she had seen them pick up Harry from the train station. _Experience- 3/10 (mainly because Harry was always leaving to go back to them, and they never seemed to care that he had almost died over the course of the previous year)_
  3. One afternoon last summer when she accompanied Mr. Weasley to get Harry for the Quidditch World Cup. _Experience- 8/10 (rated highly because Fred gave Dudley a Ton-Tongue Taffy and she stuck around long enough to witness the result; without such a diversion it would have been a 2/10.)_



She did not expect tonight to go much differently.

Vernon Dursley stood in the doorway. His face had skipped right over red and was a tint of purple that made her slightly uneasy. Without giving him much thought, she pushed through him to find Harry sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up at her, his expression full of shock and relief.

 _"_ Are you okay?" Eleanor said, rushing toward him.

He stood up to hug her, and she could feel him slightly shaking in her grasp.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! HOW DARE YOU FORCE YOUR WAY INTO MY HOUSE LIKE THIS AFTER MY SON HAS BEEN ATTACKED BY SOMETHING FROM YOUR GODDAMN WORLD! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" Uncle Vernon bellowed at her.

Eleanor grabbed her wand out of the waistband of her skirt and pointed it directly at Uncle Vernon's mouth.

 _"Silencio!"_ she said lazily.

Their uncle's mouth was still flapping wildly, but no sound was escaping his lips. Aunt Petunia let out a scream as Uncle Vernon gasped wildly at his throat. Next to her, Dudley was staring at Eleanor with terror shining in his eyes while Harry failed to suppress his laughter. She thought something looked slightly off about Dudley's appearance, as though he were extremely unwell. She backed away, not wanting to catch whatever illness he might have.

"He can still breathe!" she exclaimed, as her uncle continued to claw at his throat, "there's no need to yell. Next time just do the polite thing and invite your dear niece in, so I don't have to barge into your home."

"I didn't think you were allowed here," said Harry, who was still looking at Uncle Vernon with a smirk.

"I think a dementor attack counts as an exception to the rule," she said, sitting down between Harry and Aunt Petunia.

"Fix him!" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

Eleanor looked back at Uncle Vernon. He was still purple faced and frantic. She heaved a deep sigh and feigned a look of regret.

"I will, but only when he has calmed down a bit. We can't have the neighbors overhearing him, can we? What if they hear him bellowing about me and Harry's," Eleanor bent her head closer to Petunia's and whispered, "ungodly affliction. Or even worse, they might think something is wrong with _you_. They might jump to the conclusion that something has gone awry in your marriage."

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened at Eleanor's words. She spared a quick glance to her silent husband. She must have decided his current state was an acceptable price to pay for the maintenance of her reputation, as she turned her back on him to fuss over Dudley.

"You won't get in trouble for coming to see me then?" Harry asked slowly, returning to their original topic of conversation.

"Fred said he would cover for me."

He hadn't explicitly said so, but she knew he would. She looked at the pile of crumpled up letters sitting in front of Harry. She wasn't surprised to see them in such condition and decided then that even if she got reprimanded for coming, it was worth it.

"Anyway," she continued, ignoring Harry's concern, "tell me exactly what happened."

She listened to Harry's entire story without interruption. When he finished, she took a second to think over everything he had said. She was scared, but she didn't want him to see that. Dementors roaming away from Azkaban was the first real sign indicating Voldemort's return since Cedric's death. Instead of saying any of that, she turned her attention to Dudley.

"Do you have any chocolate?"

"Excuse me?" Aunt Petunia said, disgruntled.

"Do – you – have – any – chocolate?" Eleanor repeated, mimicking her words with her hands as though she were speaking to someone hard of hearing. "Muggles eat chocolate, don't they?"

"Yeah, they have chocolate," Harry responded in place of Aunt Petunia, who appeared too offended to speak.

"Give him some," Eleanor nodded in Dudley's direction, "it should help perk him up."

Eleanor returned her attention to Harry.

"I'm sure Dumbledore will sort everything out. He is the headmaster, so I assume the power to hand out expulsions lies mainly in his hands. Either way, there must be some clause that underaged wizards can use magic in life threatening situations."

"And if not? What if everything goes the wrong way?" Harry asked cynically.

"Then you'll come live with Sirius and Lupin."

"Really?" Harry perked up at this suggestion.

"I don't see why not," she said, shrugging, "I'm really proud of you Harry. There are plenty of grown adult wizards who would have been unable to protect themselves from a dementor attack, let alone save another person in the process," she looked over at Dudley, "I have to get back before they notice I left-"

"You're not taking me with you?" Harry asked, his face falling.

"I can't tonight, I haven't got anyway to take you."

_Translation- In my haste to see you, I made no actual plan on how to get you out._

"Why can't you take me with side-along apparition?"

"I haven't perfected side-along apparition yet; I don't want to splinch you," she admitted, a little embarrassed, "but more importantly, for you to even get into the house you need Dumbledore's permission-"

"Why-"

"It's a lot to explain right now, but I'll come back as soon as I can to get you out of here. I'm sorry but I promise I'll figure it out."

Harry nodded. He looked to be in slightly better spirits, although still crestfallen.

"Thanks for coming," he said with a small smile.

She got up to leave, squeezing him on the shoulder as she did so. Aunt Petunia cleared her throat loudly, widening her eyes in an attempted message.

"Huh- Oh, right almost forgot," Eleanor pointed her wand at Uncle Vernon and performed the counter curse. He let out a small ' _oh!'_ in surprise, before rounding on her as if to start yelling again.

"Don't tempt me to do it again," Eleanor said warningly.

Uncle Vernon drew in a sharp breath, his eyes agleam with contempt, but refrained from yelling in her presence. Satisfied, Eleanor waved one last goodbye to Harry before heading to the door. She would go outside to apparate, if only to keep Aunt Petunia from shrieking in that pitch again.

"You look just like her," whispered Aunt Petunia suddenly.

Eleanor whipped around, not sure if she had heard her Aunt correctly. Did she mean what Eleanor thought she meant?

"What?"

"Lily. You look just like Lily," breathed Petunia, "not in the hair, you're much blonder, like our mom was, but in the face. It's like seeing a ghost."

Eleanor was not sure how to respond. No one had ever told her this before. Her mother had been as startlingly of a red head as the Weasleys, and Eleanor a light, strawberry blonde. Her mother had been freckled, a physical trait she lacked. Sirius, nor Remus, nor any of her professors had ever compared her to the likes of her mother. Yet, here stood her mother's only living relative, telling her that she was a ghost of her mother. Coming from Petunia, it was hard to tell if this was a compliment or an attack.

"Thanks?" Eleanor said quietly, sharing a confused look with Harry, before finally departing the house.

She disapparated from Privet Drive, still mulling over what Aunt Petunia had said. A small fire had been lit in her heart. She was going to accept the words as a compliment, regardless of the intent behind them. She was so distracted in thought that upon entering Grimmauld Place, although remembering to be quiet, she almost ran straight into Severus Snape.

"Out for a midnight stroll," Snape sneered, stopping her dead in her tracks.

_Fuck._

"Yeah, I wanted some fresh air," she said in her most casual tone.

"There's no air quite as fresh as that of Privet Drive," he countered with a sinister smile.

_Ah shit._

Silence.

"They're waiting for you," Snape continued, in his softest voice, motioning downstairs.

She accepted her fate as she walked down the small set of stairs into the dining area. They would probably be more understanding this time than the previous times. This had been an actual emergency. It was her duty to go see him, as she had become his legal guardian when she had turned seventeen the previous November.

Every important person who belonged to the Order seemed to be present at the table. Sirius and Lupin sat next to each other, neither looking up at her as she entered. Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley Shacklebolt sat to Sirius's right; heads pressed together whispering. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were the only two that acknowledged her entrance. Both of them looked highly disappointed, and it made her heart ache. She reminded herself of the look of relief on Harry's face upon her arrival.

_It's still worth it._

On the other side sat Professor McGonagall, who was deep in conversation with no other than Albus Dumbledore. Next to them was Bill Weasley. He had his body turned to face her but was avoiding her gaze just as Sirius and Lupin had. Finally, Fred sat on the other side of Bill, looking irritated.

_Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity, Fuck._

"Well, how lovely to see you all," Eleanor said sweetly, "any word on Harry?"

Why she was even pretending as though she had not just been to see Harry, she had no clue. Obviously, they knew where she had gone. Snape told her as much. It was simply in her nature to lie her way out of things.

Fred's head whipped around at the sound of her voice. He didn't need to say anything for her to understand the look on his face- he was sorry he hadn't been able to cover for her.

"See," Fred said, rounding on the table, "she's fine!"

No one said a word.

Fred heaved himself up from the table and walked toward Eleanor as though to pull her back up the stairs. Before he could walk as far as two feet, he was pushed abruptly back into his chair as though he had been punched in the stomach.

"That was a bit much Severus," said Dumbledore with a frown.

"He needs to be here for this," Snape replied, pocketing his wand unapologetically, "the three of them have always behaved as though the rules do not apply to them. The other one should be down here too. I don't believe that he had nothing to do with her field trip-"

"Both George and Fred tried to stop me!"

Eleanor was seething now. It was one thing for her to be in trouble, but Fred and George hadn't done anything wrong.

"Fred here lied to us about your whereabouts and then tried multiple times to thwart our efforts to find you," said Snape shortly.

"Aw, why thank you Freddie!"

"Always," he said with a feeble wink.

Again, silence.

"Okay, so I went to see Harry, big deal!" Eleanor was shouting now, "I don't regret it! Do you know what he did with all your pointless letters? He crumpled them up like they were trash. He didn't need a scolding. He was so relieved to see that someone actually cared enough to check in on him with more than instructions on how to behave like a good, little boy. He needs to be here! NOW!"

"Sit," said Dumbledore, ignoring everything she had said.

She moved to sit in the chair next to Fred, who still rubbing his stomach area from whatever spell Snape cast. Sirius was still refusing to look at her, along with Bill. Lupin wouldn't meet her eyes but was surveying her general direction. She was confused as to why Sirius and Bill of all people seemed the angriest with her. Of everyone, those two usually allowed her the most slack. They knew her intentions were pure. Why couldn't they look at her?

"Here, have a drink," Dumbledore said, sliding a butterbeer in her direction.

She took it begrudgingly. Dumbledore wasn't acting in the way that she would normally expect either. Something was wrong.

"Has something... has something else happened?" she asked quietly.

"No. I simply brought this group with me today for our talk, as apparently my authority alone is not enough to impart the importance of the rules you must follow."

This was embarrassing. Her mouth was becoming very dry. She drank some of the butterbeer Dumbledore offered her to avoid talking.

"Since you refuse to listen, you have forced my hand in making you..."

She was _so_ thirsty. She had become inhumanly thirsty. She finished the bottle of butterbeer while Dumbledore spoke. Yet, now she didn't feel quite well. The walls appeared to be rippling, and everything seemed fuzzy. Dumbledore's voice was echoing in waves, and she wasn't comprehending the words. She felt dizzy. Was she dying?

"Fred?"

She tried to call out, but she wasn't sure if she had been successful. Her eyelids were too heavy, she wouldn't be able to keep them open much longer. She felt scared.

"Ella? Eleanor!"

She thought she heard Fred's voice calling to her from the other side of her eyelids. She wanted to respond, but she was just too tired. She was too tired to climb out of the blackness that was engulfing her. Her body fell limp, and she succumbed. 


	7. Coma Dreams

She was swimming in darkness, deeper and deeper into her subconscious, with no sign of light at the end. The black wrapped itself around her, squeezing her into a peaceful bliss. She wondered if she was dead. If she truly was, she had hoped for death to be more than this. She wanted to see her parents. Softly, the nothingness shifted into a dream.

Eleanor found herself standing in the Hogwarts Express. She walked down the aisle, looking in upon crowded carriages of students she either didn't recognize or who had previously graduated. The students were confined inside their separate compartments, leaving the aisle empty besides the occasional prefect and herself. Up ahead, she caught a glimpse of a boy with bright red hair holding the door of a compartment open.

It was Bill Weasley. Not the Bill Weasley she knew today, but a younger, clean-cut Bill. He was wearing a prefect badge on the front of his robes, leaning against the compartment door with an amused expression. She moved to see who Bill was looking at.

On the left, Charlie Weasley sat holding what appeared to be a dragon egg. He was polishing it intently with what Eleanor believed to be broomstick handle polish. He held it up to the window, the light of the setting sun shimmering off the blood red egg. He squinted at it, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. He shook his head and brought the egg back into his lap to continue its polishing. Sitting across from Charlie was Percy. He looked quite small and quite sick. He was hugging his stomach with both arms, looking at Charlie without seeing. Next to Percy sat Eleanor herself.

The Eleanor sitting on Percy's right could not have been older than nine. She was reading an old textbook, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. Current Eleanor stared at young Eleanor with confusion. This must be an old memory. She wondered if she truly was dead and was now seeing her life flash before her eyes.

"You know that isn't an actual dragon egg, right?" Bill asked, looking at Charlie in amusement.

"Well of course it's not _real_ _,_ but it is a pretty decent replica and there's always the possibility-"

"What if I don't get sorted into Gryffindor?" Percy interrupted in a voice barely above a whisper, the blank look on his face unchanged.

"Then you won't be in Gryffindor," replied Bill with a shrug, "but you _will_ be sorted into Gryffindor so there's no need to worry."

"But how do you know that?" Percy looked desperately at Bill, his boyish face pale as a ghost.

"Where do you reckon you'll be put if not Gryffindor?" Charlie asked, still staring at the egg in his hands with the upmost devotion.

"I don't know..." Percy mumbled, "but I'm not courageous or brave or daring! Fred and George think I'll be placed into Slytherin because they said that's where all third sons belong to."

Bill coughed down a laugh.

"They're just messing with you," young Eleanor said softly, looking up at the mention of Fred and George.

"You definitely won't be Slytherin Perce," Bill said, shaking his head, "if you're not Gryffindor, then my next guess is Ravenclaw. Slytherin would be my last guess."

Eleanor had to disagree with Bill, but she wasn't sure if she was judging young Percy or current Percy. Percy was overly ambitious, and he always had been. He was so ambitious that was willing to turn his back on his family to climb his way up to the top ranks of the Ministry.

"I don't want to be in Ravenclaw either!" Percy exclaimed, fidgeting in his seat.

"What's wrong with Ravenclaw?" Charlie asked, finally shifting his gaze to look at Percy with his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing's wrong with it, I guess," Percy muttered, "I just don't want to be alone."

"Alone?"

"I want to be with you two in Gryffindor. I don't know anyone else here."

Charlie and Bill shared a look.

"You'll have us even if you aren't in Gryffindor," Bill promised, "but you're going to make lots of friends. You won't even want to hang out with us after you meet everyone in your year. It's intimidating on the train, but you'll find people tonight! I was nervous on my first night..."

Percy snorted in disbelief.

"I was! So was Charlie if I remember correctly-"

"But people like you!" Percy pouted.

"They'll like you too! You just need to push yourself out of your comfort zone a bit and, er, Charlie and I will help you with that if we need too. You'll have us no matter what house you're sorted into."

Charlie looked as though he would rather not be forced to help his younger brother make friends, but he nodded earnestly when Percy looked his way.

"You have me!" Eleanor said brightly, "I'm always bored, and I don't really have a house..."

"You're an honorary Gryffindor until it becomes official in two years," Charlie said, and Bill nodded in agreement.

Eleanor shrugged.

"Why do you get to come to Hogwarts even though you're too young?" Percy asked her.

"Uh... because my mum and dad died?"

"No," Percy said hurriedly, looking at his brothers for help (Charlie and Bill looked back at him angrily), "I mean, you could stay at the Burrow with my brothers or... or with other people? I mean your brother stays with your Aunt and Uncle – OW!"

Bill hit Percy hard on the back of the head. Eleanor pursed her lips and looked awkwardly back at her book. The truth was she didn't know the answer to that question, not even now. Was it that no one wanted to care for her for longer than three months at a time? Had Dumbledore taken pity on her, allowing her to stay at Hogwarts rather than send her to a muggle orphanage that wouldn't understand her magical induced trauma.

"I think it's because he thinks her such a good witch that he wants her to start training earlier than the rest of us," Charlie said proudly, with a smile in her direction.

"He doesn't let me practice though," she reminded him sadly.

"No, maybe not with the professors, but he lets you attend some classes and..."

Charlie's voice was starting to fade, and blackness was encompassing around her older self. She watched as her younger version smiled at whatever Charlie was saying. The scene in front of her started to fall apart, washing away from her mind's eye slowly. She was emerged in the dark again. This time was not as peaceful. She felt as though she was pushing against it now, moving closer to actuality before being thrown once again into another memory.

This time she was standing in the dungeons, queuing for potions class. She looked upon a version of herself that was not much younger than she was now. By the look of the books in her hand, she was in her fifth year. George stood on her right, but Fred was leaning on the wall opposite, talking to Angelina. Sixteen-year-old Eleanor appeared determined not to look in Fred's direction.

"Hey, Potter!" Lee Jordan called to her from further up the corridor, brandishing a note in his hand. He tossed it to her, but it was intercepted by Graham Montague of Slytherin.

Montague unrolled it and began to read aloud,

" _Eleanor, come to my office for a private session at 7 PM. Please don't bring Fred and George this time – Remus._ Remus? Do you actually call Professor Lupin by his first name, Potter?"

"The favoritism is appalling," Isabella Hart, a fifth year Slytherin girl, said, rolling her eyes.

"Isabella, you've missed the point," said Montague, clicking his tongue, "private sessions, first name basis, staying after class, extended office hours... don't you see it? It's one thing to cheat for a passing OWL, it's a whole other thing to _sleep with your professor_ _."_

Eleanor watched as the color drained out of her own face. The younger Eleanor grabbed ahold of George, who was trying to leap onto Montague.

"I'm not sleeping with Professor Lupin," Eleanor replied hotly, "just as you aren't sleeping with _anyone_ _."_

The Gryffindors queueing in the hall laughed as Montague blushed scarlet.

" _Remus_ you mean. No wonder Cedric dumped you. It's quite disgusting Eleanor to fuck a man who's old enough to be your father. Of course, that's probably where it stems from, isn't it? From your dear, dead daddy. Never had man in your life to show you unconditional love, so you sleep with the first grown man you can get your slutty hands on. The daddy issues on this one-"

_SMACK!_

The Slytherins who had been laughing stopped abruptly. While Eleanor was able to keep George away from Montague, Fred had been on the other side of the hallway. Currently, Fred was on top of Montague, punching him repeatedly in the face. Isabella Hart screamed and fell backwards. A few of Montague's friends ran forward to help him, but George stunned them each in turn. In the shock of Fred attacking Montague, Eleanor momentarily released her grip on George.

Fred was still punching Montague, who was trying to pull his hands over his badly bleeding face. Eleanor wanted to yell at Fred to stop, but honestly, she was so angry at what Montague had said that she let it continue. Angelina was begging for Fred to stop, tears streaming down her face. Alicia was staring at the scene as though she found it both amusing and horrific. Lee began to cheer Fred on, and Eleanor grabbed ahold of George again before he could tag himself in.

"DON'T – YOU – EVER – SPEAK – TO – HER – AGAIN!" Fred threatened, heaving breaths between punches. "DON'T SPEAK TO HER, DON'T LOOK AT HER, DON'T THINK ABOUT HER! DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Eleanor, say something!" screamed Angelina.

Fred was holding Montague up from the floor by the front of his robes. Their faces were close together, and Fred was breathing hard, fists bloodied. Montague mumbled something, eyes swollen and blood spitting from his mouth. Finally, Fred let go of him as though he were something he would rather not touch, and Montague's head fell lazily back to the floor.

"What on Earth is going on here?"

Snape had finally opened the door to the classroom. He looked upon the crowd of students, his gaze finally falling to Fred, who was swaying above the bloodied Montague.

"Sir, Fred Weasley attacked Montague-" Isabella started.

"That much is obvious," snarled Snape.

"He said something disgusting about Eleanor and her dad-" George yelled, as Fred wiped spots of blood from his face with the back of his hand. The younger Eleanor was staring at Fred, eyes wide.

"He doesn't care what anyone says about my father," Eleanor said, her eyes still held on Fred. He was angrier than she had ever seen him.

"Wright, Taylor," Snape called to the last two Slytherin boys standing, "please escort Mr. Montague to the hospital wing. Fred, I must report you to Professor McGonagall immediately so that she can decide how to deal with this. Personally, I believe this warrants an expulsion-"

The younger Eleanor's head snapped to look at Snape in fear.

"but I am not your head of house," Snape's gaze turned to Eleanor and George and then back to the two boys out cold on the ground, "and who stunned Mr. Clarke and Mr. Bah?"

"I did," said George defiantly.

"Then you can follow your brother to see Professor McGonagall," Snape said simply.

Fred and George looked at each other. Their faces betrayed no emotion. The younger Eleanor was frozen in thought. As though acting on a sudden impulse, she walked forward to where Wright and Taylor were trying to help Montague up from the floor. She delivered a swift kick to Montague's stomach, resulting in him falling from his sitting position to the ground with a groan of pain.

Snape looked at her appalled. He drew in a sharp breath before pointing toward Fred and George and whispering through gritted teeth,

"Go. With. Them."

Eleanor turned on the spot and joined Fred and George. They looked back at her shocked, before grinning and starting up the stairwell together.

"Do you think you'll get expelled?" she asked worriedly.

"Nah, Ron crashed a car here last year and nothing happened..."

George's voice was fading just as Charlie's had. The scene before her slowly melted away until she was swimming in nothingness again. She was fighting against it, and this time she thought she saw a shimmer of light awaiting her in the distance. More memories started playing across the back of her eyelids.

She was drunk, celebrating Gryffindor's quidditch win in the common room. "We are the Champions" by some muggle band called Queen was being sung by the entirety of the Gryffindor house. Fred was so drunk he was holding himself upright on Eleanor's side, his fingers laced in her hair.

It changed. She had the sorting hat on her head. It shouted "Gryffindor!" and she watched as Charlie and Percy clapped enthusiastically. Fred and George were sorted in turn, both clambering down to the Gryffindor table excitedly. They hugged her, before putting their heads together, scheming against Percy.

It changed again. She was sitting with Cedric in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade. She looked bored, but Cedric was talking enthusiastically about Quidditch and Prefect duties. She nodded along, before spotting George and Fred outside the window, making crude gestures at her and Cedric. She stifled a laugh before turning her attention back to Cedric, genuinely smiling now.

And again. This time she was sitting in a quaint house, barely over the age of three. Her father was showing her how he could disappear under the invisibility cloak. She laughed, yelling "Again!" over and over.

The light was growing brighter and brighter in between memories. She was falling through them, behaving as an outsider experiencing her life from afar. She still wasn't sure if she were alive, dead, or somewhere in between.

And then, quite suddenly, she was sucked out of the darkness. Her eyes burst open. 


	8. These Violent Delights

Eleanor bolted upright. She was lying in her bed at Grimmauld Place, still wearing the same clothes she had worn to see Harry. Looking out her bedroom window, she could see the streetlamps flickering in the darkness. Her room, which had originally been Regulus's, was engulfed in darkness.

She lit the candles in her room with a swish of her wand, illuminating the Slytherin clad walls. Regulus had decorated his room entirely in Slytherin colors. While she was successful in burning away many of the articles chronicling Voldemort's rise to power, of which Regulus had attached to his walls, she hadn't been as successful with the Slytherin paraphernalia.

She felt groggy and she wondered vaguely how long she'd been out. If she had to guess, judging from the sky outside her window, it had only been a few hours. Did she pass out? It had all come on so suddenly, the feeling so artificial...

_"If you do leave this house again without permission, we will have to take drastic measures to keep you here."_

Dumbledore's warning. The butterbeer. He spiked the fucking butterbeer.

Eleanor felt her indignation bubbling. He put a sleeping drought in the butterbeer he gave her, and when she didn't drink it fast enough, someone hexed her with thirst. Probably Snape, she thought bitterly, he was behind her at the time.

It was all coming together. The reason Sirius, Lupin, and Bill wouldn't make eye contact with her came down to their discomfort in slipping her a potion. Maybe she deserved it, for sneaking off again and breaking the rules, but this seemed overly harsh. These were people she trusted with every ounce of her soul, and they tricked her. Even Bill... Even Sirius...

She felt sick. She swung her legs over her bed, standing up too fast and falling back with a headrush. Regaining her composure, she stood and walked to the door. Her rage fueled her every step. She was surprised when she swung the door open, having assumed they locked the door for good measure. She was bounding down the stairs, fists clenched, when she heard a frenzy of voices. Pausing briefly, she changed direction and started for the source of the commotion.

Ron's bedroom door was closed, but a multitude of voices were mummering from within. She grasped the doorknob, ready to burst into the room, when she heard a familiar voice. She forgot her anger for a fraction of a second, listening closely. It couldn't be, but it sounded exactly like...

"Harry!" Eleanor gasped as she opened the door.

There before her stood her younger brother looking just as angry as she felt. His expression softened slightly at the sight of her.

"You're awake," Ron stated, incredulously. He glanced at Hermione, worry dripping from both of their faces.

"Good catch Ron!" Eleanor replied, "when did you get here Harry?"

"Tonight," Harry said, "I was wondering why you didn't come back but everyone said you've been confined to your room..."

"Why did I get in so much trouble if they were just going to pick you up tonight!" She exclaimed, looking to Fred and George for answers, both of whom sat in the back of the room shifting in discomfort.

"Er, well you see," George said slowly, choosing his words with care, "it's been four days."

"Four days?"

"Four days," Fred confirmed.

"I've been snuffed out in my room for four days?"

There was a general mummer of affirmation.

"They knocked me out for FOUR DAYS! FOUR FUCKING DAYS!"

Absolute rage coursed throughout Eleanor's body, surpassing the original anger she felt when she had awoken. She burst out of the doorway and down the stairs. She wanted to scream.

"They're in a meeting!" Hermione gasped after her, all the occupants from Ron and Harry's room filing out of the room onto the landing.

Eleanor didn't need to cast a spell to open the door to the basement. She didn't need to consider what spell would undo any enchantments that had been placed upon it. All Eleanor had to do was imagine the door bursting open, and it did as she commanded. She spared no backward glances to her friends as she bounded into the dining room. She spared no thoughts to the possible consequences of this course of action.

"So," Eleanor began, her voice dripping with contempt, "how has everyone been?"

All heads turned toward Eleanor. No one looked entirely shocked to see her, nor did they appear surprised by her abrupt entrance.

"Eleanor..." Sirius began, standing up from his seat at the table.

 _"_ I don't want to hear anything from you! Did you know what they planned to do? Were you apart of it? Did you play any part in poisoning James and Lily Potter's daughter? I wonder what my dad would say if he were here right now. Do you think he'd be glad he made you my godfather?"

"Eleanor, that's enough-" Lupin began.

"Because if you ask me, I think he'd be pretty disappointed in you. Both of you! His two best friends, drugging his daughter. It would have been one thing for you to have trapped me in this house while I was conscious, but to just completely knock me out? How could I ever trust any of you again! What the actual fuck is wrong with you all!"

Eleanor was screaming. She could taste the words in her mouth; she could taste the malice she felt. Spewing venom like this didn't taste bad, like one would hope it would. It didn't burn her throat to yell so loudly. It slipped out with ease, tasting sweet as sugar on her lips. She was intoxicated with anger. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to make them feel the betrayal.

"FOUR DAYS! FOUR DAYS YOU LEFT ME UNCONCIOUS! YOU DRUGGED A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL! I WAS SCARED AND YOU DECIDED THAT THE BEST COURSE OF ACTION WAS JUST TO REMOVE THE PROBLEM COMPLETELY. YOU COULDN'T THINK OF ANOTHER SINGLE WAY TO HELP ME? DO YOU THINK I'LL EVER RESPECT ANY OF YOU AGAIN?"

"You have to calm down-"

But it was too late for calm. The room around her began to glow orange, and Eleanor became vaguely aware that the room was engulfed in flames. The fire spiraled uncontrollably down the long, wooden table in front of her. It kissed the walls, and danced along the floor, shooting a straight path back towards herself.

"Eleanor!" Bill's voice sounded faint, as though he were calling out to her from another realm entirely.

She felt warm, but not unpleasantly. It began at her feet, creeping through her veins like a shot of whiskey. The room continued to burn, and it felt _right_. Faces and voices faded from her senses and nothing else mattered. All that mattered was that she continue feeling the warmth that was radiating through her body.

And suddenly, she could hear again, a singular voice calling her back, "Ella, Ella, ELLA..."

And slowly, she could see again. For those few moments, the world consisted of only fire and Fred Weasley. She was okay with such a world. There was comfort in such violent tranquility.

And then she could feel again. His hands were cupping her face, the gesture gentle but his expression desperate. She wasn't thinking about the warmth of the flames anymore, all she could focus on was the feeling of his hands on her face. She wondered how it would feel to press her lips against his while the world burned.

And abruptly, she could think again. The flames lost their comforting warmth, and instead she was burning. She burned with such a ferocious pain that she gasped, falling forward onto Fred. The fire extinguished itself at once and the world came back into full view. 

The real world was full of nothing but pain. 


	9. Charlie's Story

In retrospect, Eleanor's loss of control that night in Grimmauld Place was the beginning of the end. Hindsight is truly 20/20.

But in the days that followed, she simply regarded the episode as utterly embarrassing. It was the first time she had lost control of her magic in such a public manner. It's one thing to burst a glass from time to time, another to create a small fire, but it is something else entirely when you almost incinerate yourself. She believed half the order thought her insane, the rest dangerous. She couldn't entirely blame them for holding those beliefs at this point.

The burn marks on her arms and legs were healing nicely, and the healers at St. Mungo's hospital believed they would disappear completely before the start of the term. They sent her back to Grimmauld Place with bandages covering the lower most half of her body. The earthy smell of burn healing paste radiating from underneath was inescapable.

She registered the whole thing as problematic, but not with the severity she should have. In all fairness, it hadn't been the first time her powers imploded with such strength. She moved on from such previous accidents. There was no reason to worry herself silly over this singular event. The whole thing reminded her strongly of Charlie.

The year was 1984, and Charlie was just beginning his first year at Hogwarts. Fall was settling across the grounds. The air was crisp with the impending cold as the pumpkins in front of Hagrid's hut began to decay. Life outside was falling victim to the chill, but Eleanor was flourishing. She had finally made a friend.

Charlie Weasley was easily the kindest person to ever grace Hogwarts in the expansive amount of time Eleanor spent at the school. He had nothing to gain from seeking Eleanor out. She was much younger than he was and not exactly a happy child. In later years, she pondered why he had spoken to her in the first place. She had considered his upbringing, but Bill hadn't reached out to her the two years prior to Charlie's arrival. Did he see the brother's he had left at home in her? Was he nervous to make friends in the beginning of his time at school? That seemed unlikely, as he was always social and the Gryffindors in his year adored him. Whatever it was, she was grateful for it.

Eleanor had not spoken a single word for about three years at this point. She missed her parents and Harry. She missed Uncle Sirius and Uncle Moony. She missed Aunt Marlene and old Bathilda Bagshot. She missed Grandma and Grandpa Evans. She missed Uncle Peter.

No matter how many times Dumbledore told her that most of the people she missed were gone forever, it was a hard concept to grasp. She did not want to speak to the man who had taken her away from her home. It did not matter how softly Albus Dumbledore spoke to Eleanor or how kindly he looked at her over those half moon spectacles. She couldn't seem to make an utterance. She didn't know the answer to his questions. Mommy and Daddy always answered for her when new adults scared her.

Then there was the big, frightening man who had ripped her out of Uncle Sirius' arms the night her parents died. He seemed friendly, but he had taken her from Uncle Sirius, and she didn't understand why. People told her that her Uncle Sirius was a bad person now, but she didn't believe them. All these new adults were liars.

The other kids were older than her and scary. They gawked at her like she was the main exhibit at a freak show. They asked her questions she didn't understand. They asked her if she saw he-who-must-not-be-named die, and she wasn't sure of the answer. They asked about Harry, but she did not know where Harry was. They asked about her parents and she did not want to answer. She didn't like them very much, those older kids. Eventually they stopped asking her questions entirely, and simply referred to her as "that Potter freak."

Eleanor usually sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table for mealtimes, away from everyone else, and ate slowly until the Great Hall filtered out. After breakfast she was ushered to the library, where Madam Pince would teach her basic skills like reading and writing. After her lesson, she would tag along at the back of the Gryffindor first year's lessons so she could be watched over by the professors. After dinner, she was escorted to her special dormitory, which had been fashioned out of an old classroom situated near the professor's quarters. She lived everyday in exactly the same manner, never breaking schedule, never breaking silence.

And then Charlie Weasley plopped himself down next to her one morning at breakfast during his first week of school.

"The food here is really good," he said simply, digging into breakfast.

She stared at him uneasily, waiting for a question she would not answer. Yet, no questions ever came. He simply ate in silence before finishing his plate. He then waved her goodbye and rushed off to class. She sat in confusion, before following the rest of her daily schedule. She watched him curiously throughout his classes that day. He seemed like everyone else. He laughed with the other kids, fell asleep in history of magic, and managed to slightly levitate a feather in charms class. He didn't appear to be special but the next day, he sat with her at breakfast again.

"I slept horribly last night," he complained, although he had a goofy grin on his freckled face, "I'm nervous for my first potion class with Snape. Bill says he hates all Gryffindors. Do you know my brother Bill?"

She looked at Charlie for a second before slowly nodding her head. She knew all the Gryffindors who had started schooling since her arrival at Hogwarts. Bill had started school two years prior and she remembered how well he excelled in his classes during his first year. Everyone was impressed by Bill Weasley.

"Well Bill says Snape's pretty tough. I was confused by that because he looks so young! You would think a younger professor might make more allowances than the older, more traditional ones. I guess not though, Bill doesn't lie. Oh, blimey I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Charlie Weasley," he rambled through forkfuls of eggs, "my mum always says I forget proper social greetings. You're Eleanor, right?"

She nodded again, looking at Charlie's plate.

"Do you reckon he's right though? Should I sit in the back during Potions?"

Eleanor nodded again, this time more fervently.

"Do you like Professor Snape?"

She shook her head. He never spoke to her, which she was grateful for, but he made her rather uncomfortable. When she thought really hard, she could remember her parents briefly mentioning Snape to their friends. They hadn’t liked him either from her memory. A part of her wanted to tell Charlie that Uncle Sirius called Professor Snape "Snivellus" but she didn't.

"Well, if you don't like him, I don't think I will," Charlie began helping himself to seconds, "you have an outsider's view of how everything works here. Your opinion is gold."

They spent the rest of the meal in silence, but Eleanor felt a bit more comfortable than she had the day before. He still hadn't asked her the usual questions most students did. When he had finished his third helping of breakfast, he bid her farewell and ran off to his first class of the day.

In potions that day, Snape informed the class that most of them lacked the intelligence to prosper in the subject. Charlie glanced back to where Eleanor sat, and grimaced. She smiled softly back.

The next day he sat with her again for breakfast. And the day after that one. And the one after that. He told her about his family. He had a rather large family with two brothers her age (twins?) and another brother Harry's age. He worried that the twins would bully the youngest brother without him there to stop it. There apparently was another brother, Percy, and a much younger sister, but he talked about them less.

He loved animals, muggle and wizard kind alike. He used to cry when his mother forced him to de-gnome the yard. He mentioned how he would be sad if he became too disoriented to find his way home, like the gnomes he tossed became. Eleanor agreed with a nod. He wanted to be in care of magical creatures with Bill, but he had to wait a few more years. More than anything he wanted to venture out into the Forbidden Forest. Eleanor wanted to tell him that she already had, but she stayed silent.

He never tried forcing her to talk, and she appreciated it. He asked her yes and no questions, otherwise rambling on about his own life. She liked listening to him talk. She found herself smiling at some of the things he said and one day at the end of September, she even laughed. The sound of her own laugh surprised herself, and she felt embarrassment, but he made no comment. She began laughing more frequently.

Often, when he performed a spell well in class, he would catch her eye and she would give him a thumbs up. When he messed up, he would look at her and she would shrug. Sometimes she would point out a student who was having greater difficulty than he was to cheer him up. He would sit with her in the library to focus on his homework from time to time. He described the Gryffindor common room to her in great detail. Apparently, he got too distracted by everyone to work there all the time.

In mid-October, he invited her to sit with him and his friends during the first quidditch game of the season. His friends didn't talk to her much, but they weren't unkind. Her face hurt from smiling in the cold. Charlie was very enthusiastic about quidditch. Sometimes he reminded her of her dad in that regard.

It was now mid-November, and she walked the grounds with Charlie on a Saturday morning. He wanted to spy on the Ravenclaw's quidditch practice to report back to the Gryffindor team to help in their upcoming match. Eleanor tagged along, per usual. She had bundled herself in two layers of jackets to fight off the chill. She didn't like being cold, but she wanted to hang out with Charlie. On their way down to the quidditch field, they ran into a few older kids.

If Eleanor was to be completely honest, she no longer remembered what house the students belonged to. If she had to guess, she would place them in Ravenclaw. They smiled at Charlie as he passed, before surveying Eleanor.

"Does she talk to you?" one of the boys asked suddenly, after Charlie and Eleanor had already walked by.

Charlie turned on the spot, furrowing his brow at the boy who spoke.

"What?"

"Does the Potter freak speak to you. I hear she doesn't talk to anyone."

The boy looked at Eleanor in a way that made her uneasy. She backed behind Charlie in discomfort.

"Shut up," Charlie said roughly before turning back around and grabbing Eleanor by the arm to pull her away.

"It's just a question!" the boy retorted, "It's weird that she doesn't speak. It's even weirder that you parade her around with you like she's normal. Everyone knows she's only here because she's super fucked up."

Eleanor had never seen Charlie mad before, but he was seething. He continued walking forward, but his grip on her arm was tightening painfully. She twisted to loosen his hand, causing them to stop walking.

"I've told you guys, Charlie Weasley must be weird if he's going around befriending six-year-olds-"

_I'm seven now._

"Does he even have any actual friends?" the boy asked his companions quite seriously.

"I do because I'm not an asshole, unlike some people," Charlie called back trying to regain his grip on Eleanor, but she was staring at the boy.

"Did you just call me an asshole?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Why don't you come back up here and say it to my face."

"Gladly," Charlie said, finally letting go of Eleanor to retreat toward the group of boys standing a few yards up the hill.

The boy who had been speaking took a step back. It was obvious that he hadn't expected Charlie to confront him physically. Charlie was close enough now to grab the boy, and he swung his arm back as though to throw a punch when-

_SLAM!_

One of the other boys in the group had taken out his wand, stunning Charlie hard onto the ground. As Charlie fell backwards, images that Eleanor tried to forget flew through her mind. She could see her dad crumpling in a flash of green, and her stomach churned. The boy hurt Charlie just as Voldemort had hurt her dad...

It happened quite suddenly, fear coursing through her veins with her heart stuck in her throat. A line of fire shot away from Eleanor toward the group of boys antagonizing them. It caught the hem of their robes, and they all screamed. The boy who cursed Charlie was on the ground, trying to snuff the fire out but no matter what he did, the flames blazed on. Eleanor stared at them, encouraging the fire to burn on.

"ELEANOR!"

Charlie was back up, running toward her. He scooped her up and the fire extinguished itself as she broke eye contact with the boys. They scampered, running with all their might back towards the castle.

Eleanor stared at Charlie in shock. Her dad hadn't gotten back up after he was cursed.

"Did you do that?" He gaped at her, "How did you do that?"

She looked at him, relief flooding her. She took a deep breath before whispering, "They hurt you."

Charlie was at a loss for words. Whether it was because she just lit three boys aflame or because she spoke, she wasn't sure. Finally, he took her hand and started to lead her back to the castle. He looked down at her one more time before laughing.

"Don't tell anyone what happened. If those guys say anything to a professor, I'll just say it was me," Eleanor nodded, "but I truly have no idea how you did that."

From that day forward, Charlie became the person she confided in about everything, especially her accidental magic. She wished Charlie had been there when she lit herself on fire, but at least Fred was able to help her now. She settled on sending a letter out to Romania recounting parts of the event, hoping he would lessen her embarrassment.

She missed Charlie. 


	10. A Brief Interlude on Why One Should Not Trust Boys

There was also that time she lost control during her fifth year at Hogwarts. It was the January of 1994 and the snow was piling up outside. There was a chill throughout the castle that confined most students to the warmth of the common rooms. Eleanor was studying in the library with Alicia Spinnet, who had been the one to suggest they study there rather than with everyone else in Gryffindor tower. She cited the twins' antics as her reasoning for wanting solitude, but Eleanor thought Alicia was trying to avoid Angelina. She wasn't sure what had happened between her two friends, but the pair hadn't spoken since winter break. It irritated Eleanor greatly, but she had long since given up on mending the girls' friendship, if only to maintain her own good relations with the two.

Alicia was pouring over a history of magic textbook, trying to find the key differences between several goblin revolts throughout the centuries. Alicia was dealing with a great deal of anxiety about their upcoming OWL examinations. She was trying to prepare extensive notes in advance to study from. Eleanor was attempting to work on a charms essay for Flitwick, but she hadn't written anything. She flicked her quill between her fingers listlessly, staring at a nearby table of Hufflepuff fifth years.

Cedric dumped Eleanor right before Christmas break about a month prior. The girls in her dormitory were in an uproar over the event. They had taken to calling him 'Douchebag Diggory' and threw dirty looks in his direction anytime they passed him in the corridor. Angelina took her indignation at Eleanor's dumping to the next level by spreading a rumor regarding Cedric's lack of stamina in the bedroom. This led to the girls changing their nickname to 'Too Quick Cedric,' which Fred and George found highly amusing.

Eleanor appreciated her friends' animosity on her behalf, but she wasn't exactly heartbroken by the end of her relationship. She tried to explain this one night while they sat around their dormitory comforting her.

"You don't have to put on a brave face with us, Ellie," Iris Webb, her fellow Gryffindor fifth year, had said, the rest of the girls nodding in agreement.

Eventually, Eleanor gave up on correcting their assertions regarding her breakup. She did try to put a stop to the rumor regarding Cedric's sex life, as she had never even slept with him over the course of their relationship. It was a fruitless effort, and by mid-January most of Gryffindor tower was referring to him as 'Too Quick Cedric.'

Eleanor severely hoped this rumor wouldn't make its way back to Cedric, but she wouldn't be surprised if it already had. Cedric was all in all a good person, who hadn't done anything wrong in their entire relationship. Their only real issue was that Eleanor constantly chose Fred and George over him, which wasn't fair to him. In the end he couldn't stand it anymore and broke it off. She worried that if he thought she started the rumor he would retaliate by implying she cheated on him with Fred, which he had in fact implied while dumping her. So far though, no such rumor had reached her ears.

It was thanks to Cedric that Eleanor had finally come to terms with the truth of the matter. She had feelings for Fred that were much different from those she held for George or Lee. She felt for Fred the way she supposed she ought to have felt for Cedric. It frightened her, the prospect of ruining one of the most important dynamics in her life by telling him something he had no desire to hear. It wouldn't only hurt her friendship with Fred but would most likely throw George into the middle of a very uncomfortable situation. The only thing Eleanor knew for sure was that George deserved much better than that.

And yet, a part of her wondered if Fred felt a similar way. There were moments when she was sure he must. So often he placed himself in the common room so that he could sit in a manner where they could touch. Sometimes it was simply their knees grazing against each other's, other times he would sit on the couch so that she could place her head in his lap as she read. When he was bored, he would sit behind her and braid her hair. He spoke to her differently than he spoke to most people, as though he was slightly more comfortable in her presence. But every moment she cherished might simply feel like friendship to him and she feared popping her bubble of bliss.

So here she sat, dissecting through seemingly insignificant moments she once shared with Fred, unable to concentrate on much else other than what it would feel like to call him hers.

"When you look at all these at once, wizards really don't come off too hot," Alicia said, straightening in her chair.

"Huh?"

"The goblin revolts," she said simply, "it's unfortunate that wizards have created the conditions in which goblins are forced to revolt against the upholding's of a magical society that treats them as subservient. They've been stereotyped as gold mongering, when in reality it's just a difference in perception of the terms of possession. Possession is a societal based concept, neither wizards nor goblins are correct or incorrect in the way that they understand the ownership of material goods. Yet, we demonize them for an ideology in which they believe the maker of an object to be the sole proprietor rather than the buyer."

"You're right," Eleanor responded slowly, trying to process all the information Alicia had thrown at her, "wizard's have always been arrogant."

"It's more than just that Eleanor. It's systematic prejudice that not even these revolts have been able to undo. Instead, they teach young witches and wizards about unsuccessful riots to push the message that wizards are the most superior beings and anyone who tries to usurp our societal norms will lose." Alicia shook her head, finalizing her notes on the subject.

"You will make a wonderful Minister of Magic," Eleanor said.

"It will take more than just policy change, it will take the dying out of an age-old ideology," Alicia said with a sigh, yet she smiled slightly at Eleanor's compliment, "but I assume that means I have your vote."

"I can think of no one better to attack age-old ideologies," Eleanor said with a smile.

"As long as I pass all my OWLS," she bit her lip, "you probably don't even need to study."

"I'll do well on the practicals, but I'm worried about the written portion. I have trouble remembering all the details."

"If you actually studied, I think you would be fine."

"I do study!" Eleanor responded indignantly.

"You read textbooks you're interested in and completely ignore the rest," Alicia pointed out.

"Even the ones I do read I have trouble remembering, you're wonderful at analyzing and memorizing the precise wand work-"

"You're good where it actually counts – the spell itself," Alicia said with a hint of finality in her voice, "what career are you considering after Hogwarts?"

"Er, I don't know," Eleanor answered truthfully.

"You would make an impressive Auror. I also hear the Department of Mysteries look for capable recruits, maybe you could investigate that."

"Yeah, those are both reasonable," Eleanor said uncomfortably.

Truth be told, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. She was always expecting Voldemort to crop back up and kill her before she had time to graduate. She certainly hadn't expected to live this long.

"What do you think Fred and George will do?" Alicia asked.

"Nothing to do with the Ministry," Eleanor responded, but the mention of Fred put her back into a tailspin.

She could try to tell him how she felt, but the idea caused bile to burn in the back of her throat. She began idly playing with her quill again, her heart racing as her mind presented more intoxicating thoughts. She would feel out the situation, present it slowly. The step from the relationship they currently held to the one she wanted wasn't much of a leap.

"What's wrong?" Alicia asked suddenly.

"What – Oh, nothing," Eleanor said quickly.

"It's obviously not nothing. You haven't done any of your essay and you keep twiddling with your quill-"

"It isn't exactly a sign of distress when I have trouble starting my homework," Eleanor pointed out.

"Maybe not if we were in a big group, but when it's just you and me you usually figure your shit out," Alicia said, "Is it Cedric?"

"Merlin, no," Eleanor said, a little too fast.

"Good, because he isn't worth it," Alicia grumbled, "no boys here are."

Eleanor nodded in agreement but continued flipping over the quill in her hand. If she could just get Fred alone...

"Is this about a boy?" Alicia continued.

"I-"

"That's a yes," Alicia smirked, "who?"

Eleanor said nothing.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me," she said, "I think it would be good for you to rebound."

"I'm not trying to rebound, it's just..." Eleanor paused. A part of her wanted to tell Alicia, but the rest of her felt too embarrassed.

"It's hard to tell guys you like them because, well, guys are confusing. They think they're straightforward, but they aren't."

Eleanor nodded.

"I can't imagine a guy not liking you though. Just ask him out."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm a girl-"

"Come on Eleanor! That's a ridiculous gender norm. If this boy is too coward to ask you himself, then it's up to you. You've fought a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, but you won't ask out a boy?"

"If he says no it'll be humiliating."

"Then obliviate him."

"Wh- Alicia!"

"I'm just saying," Alicia laughed, "If he embarrasses you afterwards then just make it like it never happened. Take the memory away, move on. At least you'll have an answer."

Eleanor thought Alicia was probably kidding, but she made a good point. Eleanor had _magic._ She could fix anything that went wrong.

_Like it never happened._

"I could ruin everything," Eleanor said finally, her stomach churning once more.

"You're ruining yourself by sitting here and freaking out about it. Either don't ask him out and move on or tell him how you feel. You were sorted into Gryffindor Eleanor; you can ask a boy out."

Eleanor sat with Alicia in silence for a moment, considering her words. Alicia tended to be right about most things, and Eleanor trusted her judgement above all others. If Alicia thought she should do it, then that was what she needed to do. She would tell Fred how she felt. Well, maybe she wouldn't tell him the complete truth. She could simply suggest it as a possible idea.

 _Alicia doesn't know who you're talking about_ _,_ a cynical voice in her head taunted.

That was also true. She pondered whether or not Alicia would give her the same advice if she knew who Eleanor was speaking of. Alicia liked Fred, but only to a point. She wished Fred would take life more seriously, yet she wished the same thing for Eleanor. Maybe Alicia would think they were a good match.

 _Or maybe you're too alike,_ the voice continued _,_ _you both encourage impulsivity to a fault._

 _Or maybe,_ a gentler voice in her head countered, _the only people's opinion who count on the matter are yours and Fred's._

Eleanor looked over at Alicia. She was back to taking notes, this time on the Anti-Muggle Laws of 1756. Eleanor took a deep breath before pushing herself up from the table.

"I'm going to do it," she said, though her hands were shaking.

"I'll be here until the library closes if you need me," Alicia said with a supportive smile before looking back through her notes.

Eleanor headed out of the library and walked toward Gryffindor tower. A few times she made to turn around, doubting her decision, but eventually she decided that going to see Fred was the best course of action. He was only Fred after all. She always thought she could talk to Fred about anything.

_He can be an asshole._

She couldn't argue with herself on that point. Although he typically avoided being an asshole to her.

_Not always though._

She clambered through the portrait hole and spotted the majority of her friends sitting by the fire. George and Lee were playing exploding snap, while Iris and Katie Bell watched. Alfie Nott, another Gryffindor fifth year, was trying to write their charms essay but became distracted every time he heard Iris laugh.

"Where's Fred?" Eleanor asked the group when she made her way over to them.

Alfie made to open his mouth, but Lee interrupted him with a laugh.

"He's in the dormitory," Lee said with a sly smile at George.

Something about Lee's tone of voice made Eleanor more uneasy than she already was. She looked over to Iris and Katie for clarification, but neither seemed to understand any better than she did. They both shrugged before turning their attention back to the game. Alfie looked torn between saying something and staying silent. In the end, he bit his lip and hastily returned to his homework.

Eleanor started up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, her heart pounding in her throat. She could do this; he was just a boy. A boy she knew better than anyone else in the entire world. Worst case scenario, _Obliviate_ was a pretty easy spell.

When she reached the third landing, she opened the door to the fifth-year boy's dormitory. She looked toward Fred's bed only to immediately shut her eyes.

"Shit, uh sorry, I-" Eleanor gasped weakly, turning on the spot.

Fred was completely naked, standing at the foot of his bed while he fucked Angelina from behind.

The color drained from Eleanor's face as her heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach. She felt her way out of the room, eyes still closed, slamming the door behind her as fast as she could. She thought she heard Angelina's twinkling laugh echoing behind her. She stumbled down the steps back into the common room where Lee and George were waiting for her with giant grins on their faces.

"Find Fred?" Lee asked with a laugh.

George, who had also been laughing, stopped smiling when he saw the look on Eleanor's face.

"You okay, El?" He asked.

"Yeah, I, um, ew," she replied weakly.

George smiled, but he didn't seem to find the joke quite as funny as he had a second ago. On the other hand, Lee was wiping tears out of his eyes as he doubled over in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Iris pouted, looking between Eleanor and Lee.

"I'm sure Lee will explain," Eleanor told Iris, trying to keep her voice light, "I, uh, I'm gonna head back to the library to... I should go back to Alicia."

Alfie glanced up from his essay as she passed, giving her an apologetic look. She faintly heard Iris begging the boys to let her in on the joke as she pushed her way back out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. She loosened her tie as she walked, feeling as though her throat was constricting. She walked aimlessly, her feet leading her as far away from Fred as she could manage.

Lee and George hadn't known why she wanted to see Fred, they just wanted to pull a prank. They couldn't have known how it would make her feel to see Fred and Angelina like that. It would have been funny, if it had been George and Angelina, but it was Fred and it was anything but funny.

She felt like she was going to be sick. She stopped walking for a second to catch her bearings. She realized she was close to the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor and sped toward her newly decided destination.

"Flobberworm," Eleanor said quietly, the door to the prefect's bathroom swinging open.

She was sweating, and the world felt unbearably hot. She still couldn't wrap her mind around what she had witnessed. Fred had never said anything about wanting to be with Angelina. Angelina had never said anything about wanting to be with Fred. To make matters worse, Angelina was one of Eleanor's closest friends, and although the image in her head made her sick, she couldn't hate Angelina for it. Angelina had beat her to the punch; she was too late. She didn't even know how Fred would have reacted to her feelings. Not that it mattered now.

She hated herself for feeling so pathetically sad over a boy. Fred's hands on Angelina's bare skin flashed through her mind repeatedly. She wanted to wash her brain clean of the memory. She wished she could obliviate her own mind. She closed her eyes, trying to rub the pictures playing across her eyelids away. Her imagination was getting the best of her now, and the room was even hotter than she remembered.

She opened her eyes, moving to take off her sweater, when she caught a flicker of orange in the sink mirror. Turning around, she gasped at the sight. The candles in the chandelier burned with an intensity Eleanor had never seen before. The flames flew upward, twisting across the high marble ceiling in coils of orange fury. She fell backwards against the sink, yelling out. Then, just like that, the candle's flames diminished to their original size and all was normal.

And that was the day Eleanor discovered that self-pity could be added to the long list of emotions that caused her to try and burn the world away. 


	11. And Now, Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

"Did you actually punch Percy?"

"George," Eleanor hissed, shooting a glance in Mrs. Weasley's direction.

Eleanor and the twins were sitting in the basement, "celebrating" Ron and Hermione being made Prefects. It seemed that half the order was crammed down in the basement, picking at the feast Mrs. Weasley had laid out along the dinner table. There was little chance of being overheard with so many people in one room, but Eleanor was still wary of Mrs. Weasley eavesdropping.

"Well, did you?" George asked exasperatedly.

"Alright, yes I did but hush up about it. You don't want your mum to find out and start crying over it," Eleanor said, shooting another glance at Mrs. Weasley.

"She's too happy right now to spare us a thought," Fred said haughtily, staring at his mother from the chair he sat in, arms crossed, "Little Ronnie, Prefect."

"Why didn't you tell us when it happened?" George asked, a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Well, I'm not exactly proud of hitting your brother in the face," Eleanor said.

"You should be," Fred responded, his eyes still fixed on his mother and Ron.

"Tell us everything!" George whispered, boyish excitement strewn across his face, "like, what did he say-"

"Did he cry?" Fred countered.

"And how did it feel?" George added, nodding at Fred.

Eleanor sighed. She stole a glance at Harry, who was doing his best to put on a happy face for the sake of his friends. He had already been left out of so much that summer, she didn't understand why Dumbledore couldn't have made Dean Thomas prefect instead. She knew Harry was proud of Ron, but at the same time, it must have stung. It stung George and Fred.

"They let me into Harry's trial, since I'm a relative-"

"Yeah, we know. You told us _that_ much."

"Well, Percy was there. He was taking notes or something stupid. You should have seen him, sitting on his high horse because the Minister of Magic was entrusting him with such a demanding task-"

Fred snorted, his eyes still on the rest of his family.

"I thought, well Percy knows Harry. Even if he's mad at your family, he was always kind to Harry. I hoped he would be a... I don't know, a friendly face in the crowd."

"Wishful thinking," Fred interrupted.

"Yeah," Eleanor scoffed, "he was the opposite of a friendly face. He made everything worse with his constant nodding at every bullshit lie that came out of Fudge's mouth. He wouldn't even look in Harry's direction. It was appalling."

"So, you punched him because he was being a pompous prat," George said nodding, "that's completely fair. I don't blame you."

"I already told you to be proud of yourself," Fred added.

"Well, there's more," Eleanor took a deep breath, "I was pissed, so I stayed behind. I knew Percy would be the last to leave the courtroom because he would check over his notes to make sure they were perfect-"

"Classic Percy," Fred murmured.

"-or something annoying of the sort," she continued, "and I was right. He didn't realize it was only the two of us left until it was too late. He tried to ignore me, but I blocked his way to the door. I told him he was a pompous prat-"

"because he is," said George wisely.

"-and that Harry of all people has never done anything deserving of the cold treatment Percy gave him. Then I asked him... well, I asked him if his knees hurt from sucking Fudge off all the time."

Fred ripped his gaze away from his mother at last. He exchanged a look with George before they both burst out laughing. The whole room turned to look at them, and Eleanor shrank in her chair.

"I know it wasn't exactly nice," she whispered.

"It was perfect," Fred said, wiping tears from his eyes, "you just turned my whole night around."

Eleanor smiled sheepishly at Fred, straightening in her seat as the buzz of conversation in the room returned.

"Do you know what the funniest part of it all was? He was angrier that I insinuated that Fudge would trade sexual favors for job positions than at the insinuation that he himself got his job position through blowjobs."

"Which proved the point you were trying to make," George replied.

"Whatever, I knew I shouldn't have said it when it left my mouth, but it is what it is. He went off on me about the integrity of the ministry of magic, as if a bunch of old, white men haven't been sexually harassing young employees for ages. Do you remember Penelope Clearwater? Percy's ex-girlfriend? Well, she filed a sexual misconduct lawsuit against the Department of Magical Transportation last month-"

"You're getting off topic," Fred said, looking back at Ron.

"Well, it's important," Eleanor said, irritated. It was times like these that she missed Alicia, Iris, and Angelina most.

"Yeah, yeah we can talk about that later," George said, "finish your story. We must almost be at the good part."

"Yeah, okay," Eleanor sighed, "he said that if I was still interested in working for the ministry after Hogwarts, I needed to get my act together and stop supporting my liar of a brother."

"Did he actually call Harry a liar?" George asked.

"Yes."

"Outright?"

"Yeah, he did. He said," Eleanor cast a look around for Mr. Weasley, dropping the volume of her voice so that the twins had to lean their heads in, "hanging around my liar of a brother and his 'loser of a father' wouldn't appear well on an application."

Fred and George's eyes flashed with anger.

"So, I punched him. Hard. Square in the nose. Broke his stupid glasses."

"Good," Fred said, resentment dripping in the word.

"He didn't say much after that," Eleanor said with a sly smile, "just stumbled backwards and took off running. I think your dad knows what I did, but he hasn't mentioned it."

"Probably because he's glad you did it and knows he isn't supposed to be," George said with a laugh.

"Can you believe that Mum and Dad got Ron a new broomstick for being made Prefect," Fred said suddenly.

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had been dreading having this conversation, partly because in having it she would only become angrier with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I can buy both of you new brooms. Honestly, there is nothing I would rather spend my money on," Eleanor started, but Fred shook his head.

"It's not that I want a new broomstick," Fred said, "I mean, of course I wouldn't be opposed. It's just that we made our house quidditch team in our second year and we didn't get anything for it. It's hard to make the team that early, and mum and dad just didn't care. Charlie did it first, so it was less impressive the second time around. Ron isn't even on the quidditch team, and he has a nicer broom then either of us now. It's stupid."

"If I just buy one more Nimbus, than one of you could have my old Nimbus and the other the new one. I have the firebolt so really-"

"I don't want you to buy me a broomstick," Fred said angrily, "I want them to! You've gotten us more than they ever have."

An uncomfortable silence ensued as the three picked at their plates. Eleanor avoided looking back at them until she thought of something to say.

"It isn't fair, how they treat you both," she said quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Fred said, throwing his plate down on the table and leaving to go talk to Mundungus.

"Well, at least we know for sure now that Fred and I are the least favorites," George said sullenly.

"Oh, don't say that," Eleanor said in desperation.

"Can you really deny it after today?"

George stood up and followed after Fred, leaving Eleanor alone. Today had been a great day for Ron, who did deserve to have a moment to shine. She just wished it didn't have to be made at the expense of Fred, George, and Harry. It would have been fine if Mrs. Weasley hadn't shouted it from the rooftops. If she hadn't claimed that everyone in the family had been made prefects at this point, when Fred and George had not, maybe they wouldn't feel so forgotten.

"I have been so worried about Ron going into his fifth year," she heard Mrs. Weasley saying to Lupin and Kingsley, quite loudly, as they ate in the opposite corner of the room, "OWL year, that's a rough one. Fred and George barely scraped by and I don't want Ron to limit his career choices by blowing off the exams like the twins-"

"Are OWL's really that important, in the grand scheme of things?" Eleanor asked, the blood in her veins boiling.

"What dear?" Mrs. Weasley said, looking over in her direction.

The room became oddly quiet, all heads turning to look at Eleanor. She hadn't spoken to the adults much since the fire incident and when she did, they seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for her to explode.

"We won't even remember our OWL scores when everything is said and done," she said, "it's not that important."

"Well, no maybe not," Mrs. Weasley countered, furrowing her brow, "but they can lead to career pathways that you would not have considered otherwise. With three OWLS a piece, Fred and George have to look into very specific job areas. You on the other hand, got seven OWLS, Eleanor."

"I got a Troll grade in history of magic," Eleanor said before she could stop herself, "and in Astronomy."

The room fell completely silent. She thought she heard a few people choke on their drinks.

"Eleanor," Lupin said with a laugh, "that's not true."

"It is," she said, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment, "I can go get my report if you would like. It's in my school trunk somewhere."

"You actually got a T," Hermione said nervously, as though Eleanor failing meant she would too.

"No, I got _two_ T's," Eleanor clarified, "and I only got an acceptable in muggle studies because a friend helped me cheat."

_Translation – A friend = Iris_

"But," Mrs. Weasley said, looking around the room for support, "everyone's always told us how talented you are. T's are...they're hard to get. Did you even try?"

"I did try," Eleanor said defensively, "and I am talented. I got two T's and I'm an extraordinarily talented witch. The two aren't antithetical. OWL's aren't everything."

She looked over at Fred and George, both of whom were smiling broadly at her. She winked at them.

"I think I failed History of Magic too," Sirius said from the other end of the table, looking at Eleanor with a small smile.

"It's not the most useful subject," Lupin countered.

"Alicia would disagree with you," Eleanor said, standing up from the table, " _if we don't learn from the past, we are bound to make the same mistakes._ "

"It's one thing to fail history of magic, but a T!" Hermione said, still looking frazzled, "I didn't even know that was a grade level."

"I'm just that good," Eleanor said, walking toward the stairs, "now if you all don't mind, I am going to take a sad Troll shower and go to bed."

Eleanor didn't want to stay and talk anymore about her failing grades. She had promised herself she would never tell anyone other than Fred and George that she had gotten two T's on her OWL report. It was embarrassing, because the truth was, she had tried her best. She couldn't memorize anything for shit.

She also didn't want to hear Sirius and Lupin stand up for her at the moment. She made the decision that she was going to move forward from the drugging event, but that didn't mean she had forgotten. Sirius promised her he didn't know how long they were drugging her for, and neither did Bill. They both assumed it would be for an hour max while they spelled her in the house somehow. Lupin promised her that Sirius had ripped Dumbledore a new one when he realized the truth of the plan. She believed them, but her relationship with her godfathers took a hit that night.

If she was honest, she was more forgiving of Sirius than of Lupin. Sirius felt similarly about Dumbledore, but Lupin seemed to believe Albus Dumbledore could do no wrong. It was easier to forgive Sirius because she knew he agreed with her full heartedly. Yet, she promised herself she would treat both men the same for the time being. If she treated one better than the other, that might drive a wedge between the two and they were just seeming to get back on track.

Eleanor made it to the topmost landing and shut the door to Regulus's room behind her. She opened her school trunk, picking through old quills and ripped textbook pages until she found what she was looking for.

_Ordinary Wizarding Level Results_

Pass Grades- Outstanding (O), Exceeds Expectations (E), Acceptable (A) 

Fail Grades- Poor (P), Dreadful (D), Troll (T)

Eleanor Marlene Potter has achieved:

Astronomy: T

Care of Magical Creatures: A

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: A

History of Magic: T

Muggle Studies: A

Potions: O

Transfiguration: O

Eleanor knew the practical portions of her OWL's were what pushed her to O's and A's. She was genuinely shocked she received a single O, knowing how abysmal her written portion must have been.

She threw her OWL report back into her trunk and threw her new books in after. She spotted an unopened letter from Hogwarts on her dresser and moved to grab it. She was quite sure it was simply a letter confirming her reappointment as Prefect for the year (though she would have been delighted if she wasn't given the title back, being a Prefect was a pain in the ass). She had just slit the letter open when she heard it.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry was saying faintly from downstairs.

Eleanor poked her head out of her room. From what she gathered; Harry was trying to console a sobbing Mrs. Weasley in the drawing room.

 _Nothing I said was that rude_ _,_ Eleanor thought, descending the stairs to help Harry.

She would just apologize for contradicting Mrs. Weasley and move on. She loved Mrs. Weasley; she just couldn't stand to hear another snarky remark about her best friends. Fred and George were much smarter than anyone gave them credit for.

Harry was standing at the door to the drawing room looking hopeless when Eleanor finally made her way to the landing. She could hear Mrs. Weasley sobbing inside the room. Shame crept through Eleanor's heart at the sound. She had just moved Harry gently out of the doorframe when she saw it. The twins were lying dead in the middle of the drawing room floor.

An ear-splitting scream pushed its way out of Eleanor's mouth. She fell to her knees, absolute despair punching her in the gut. The whole world was spinning, and yet all that mattered to her were the dead boys on the floor. It didn't make any sense; they had been fine just ten minutes ago.

She felt Harry pulling her back; knew in the back of her mind that Harry was trying to tell her something, but she ignored him. She pushed Harry away and crawled over to the twin's bodies, tears streaming down her face. She reached out to touch Fred's cheek, when all of a sudden-

_Crack!_

The twin's bodies disappeared. She sat in confusion as tears continued to streak down her cheeks. Looking up, she saw a Death Eater in black robes staring down at her. The silver glint of the mask was gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window. Eleanor scampered back toward the wall, still sitting, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. She pulled her wand out of the waistband of her jeans and pointed it shakily at the Death Eater. Fred and George dead, now a Death Eater stood in Grimmauld Place. She could hardly believe it.

_That's because it's unbelievable. It's not real._

And then it dawned on her-

_Boggart._

She felt her heartrate slow as she figured it out. She raised her wand again, opening her mouth to say the spell, when the Death Eater pulled off its mask. Staring back at her was Eleanor Potter herself, a smirk on her face as the mask dropped to the floor.

The Death Eater Eleanor tilted her head to the side, surveying the real Eleanor with mild interest. She pulled up the sleeve of her black robe, exposing the dark mark imprinted on her forearm.

 _This isn't real,_ Eleanor thought desperately, _obviously this isn't real because you're sitting on the floor right now, with nothing but a firework tattoo on your wrist. You're not a Death Eater, dumbass._

And yet, the thought of it was paralyzing. She stared, mouth gaped open at the image of herself, eyes sunken, skin burnt, robes pristine. She was terrifying to witness. Terrifying and extremely powerful.

 _You would be the most powerful dark wizard to exist,_ the voice cropped back up, _more powerful than Grindelwald, more powerful than Voldemort._

_But I'm not evil, I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not a Death Eater..._

_Who said you had to be a Death Eater to be evil?_

"Riddikulus!"

Lupin was now standing in front of her, as a popped balloon flew through the air, before disappearing all together.

Sirius was in the doorway, looking at her with fear in his eyes. She felt embarrassed for the second time that night, and this time it was not of her own doing.

"Ellie..." Lupin began, reaching a hand out to pull her up from the floor.

"I'm fine," Eleanor said, pushing herself up on her own, "I didn't realize it was a boggart at first, I just saw..."

"Oh Eleanor, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Weasley sobbed, "it's all my fault. I thought I could handle the boggart myself but... she came in and saw... the boggart turned into... my family... dead."

"It's okay, you can't control what your boggart turns into," Eleanor said, backing out of the room, "mine's changed."

"Eleanor, I think we should-" Sirius was looking between her and Lupin, his voice breaking.

"I don't want to talk about it," Eleanor said, pushing past him, "I'm sorry Harry. I know how to handle a boggart. I don't know what happened to me in there."

"It's okay," Harry said, but he looked uneasy.

"I'm going to bed," she said, ignoring Sirius and Lupin's protests as she jogged up the steps and into Regulus's old bedroom.

She flung herself onto her bed, trying to catch her breath. What the fuck was that. When she last practiced with boggarts, her boggart was Lucius Malfoy. Now it was herself, turned into everything Lucius Malfoy was. She felt sick.

 _And Harry saw it,_ she thought miserably _,_ _he definitely thinks your crazy now._

At least she didn't set anyone on fire. That was an improvement of sorts.

She refused to let her mind wander back to the image of Fred and George lying dead on the floor. She sat up on her bed, reaching for the half-opened letter. She pulled it out and began to read,

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the position of Head Girl for the academic school year of 1995-1996. The wit, ambition, loyalty, and courage you have shown over the past six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry made you the perfect candidate for the position. Your embodiment of our values is evident to staff and student's alike._

_We believe you will shoulder these new responsibilities with the enthusiasm required. You will meet with staff at the conclusion of the feast on the first night in the staff room for your instructions for the year. As well, you will be informing the new prefects of their responsibilities on the train ride to Hogwarts in the Prefect's carriage. The attached papers may serve as an aid in this first task._

_Congratulations on an outstanding achievement,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Ew. 


	12. The Final Journey

Eleanor awoke extra early the next morning. Any excitement she had previously felt about returning to Hogwarts vanished in the wake of being appointed Head Girl. She was certainly not looking forward to telling Fred and George about it, especially not after Ron's Prefect party.

She made her way downstairs, hoping to avoid the morning breakfast rush. She was grateful to find that the only other two awake were Sirius and Lupin.

"Good morning," Lupin said with a smile, "excited to be going back to Hogwarts today?"

Eleanor shrugged, sliding into the chair next to Sirius. He pushed a plate of toast her way, and she began buttering it.

"It won't be the same without you here," Sirius said gruffly.

Eleanor felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving Sirius. They had finally become a little family, just for her to be all grown up when it happened.

 _"_ Will you be able to write?" Eleanor asked.

"We'll see," Sirius said sadly, "we have to be extra careful with what we put in writing now adays."

 _"_ How are you feeling today?" Lupin asked, putting down the newspaper he had been skimming.

"I still don't want to talk about last night."

"I know you don't, and we won't make you," Lupin glanced over at Sirius, "but if you change your mind, we're always here."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Eleanor eating slowly. A knot of anxiety was forming in her stomach.

"I made Head Girl," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Eleanor, that's a huge accomplishment," Lupin beamed. "Congratulations! I swear you remind me more and more of your mother every day. She was Head Girl too, you know. She would have been so proud of you."

Eleanor blushed at the compliment. She hadn't considered the fact that her mother was also Head Girl. A surge of pride elated Eleanor for a second before she quickly shut it down.

"I don't deserve it," she said quietly.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, it's just..." she looked around at her godfathers miserably, "I'm in detention every other week, I got two T's on my OWL report, I've abused my Prefect privileges more times than I can count-"

"You sound like your father," Sirius interrupted, "being Head Girl isn't necessarily about being the model student. It has more to do with your leadership qualities."

"So?"

"So, that's the whole point. That's why James made Head Boy. Your mother made Head Girl because she was the perfect student. She was well-behaved, well-mannered, well-respected, and extremely intelligent. Your father made Head Boy because people listened to what he had to say. If you ask me, you remind me more of your father in that regard."

Eleanor had never received a kinder compliment. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at Sirius.

"You really think so?"

"I really do," Sirius nodded. "Remus, you were her professor. What do you think?"

 _"_ Oh, they all admire her, that's for sure," Lupin smiled.

"I'll probably make a lot of mistakes as Head Girl," Eleanor said, "and I'll definitely let Fred and George run wild. And let my friends use the prefect bathroom. And still help people sneak out at night."

"Nothing would have made your father prouder," Sirius said.

Eleanor would miss this the most. The morning breakfasts the three of them shared throughout the summer filled a void in her that she had been missing for a long time. She wished Harry would get up and join them, but she didn't want to wake him. Instead, she finished her breakfast before going back upstairs to finish packing up her school trunk.

The Weasley family was extremely chaotic, and Eleanor wouldn't want it any other way. Mrs. Black's portrait was going off so often as everyone ran about that she wondered why they were bothering to shut her up at all. Fred and George were running from room to room, looking for last minute creatures or artifacts they could experiment with. At one point, the two collided on the stairs, causing Fred to fall two stories. George and Eleanor had trouble disguising their laughs as Mrs. Weasley reprimanded them for not watching where they were going.

At long last, everyone was ready to go. They were running late per usual, but Eleanor was not leaving without saying a proper goodbye to Sirius, no mater how much it annoyed Mrs. Weasley.

"Will you please try to write if you can?" Eleanor pleaded, "and I can always sneak out to Hogsmeade through the Whomping Willow and apparate back if you get too lonely."

"I promise I will write," Sirius said, "but you don't need to come running back here just because I'm stuck in this old house."

"Well, I'll probably come hang out when I get too bored of Hogwarts whether you want me here or not," she said firmly, "at least you'll have Lupin."

"He's not staying here Eleanor."

"Why not? He stayed here all summer."

"That was because you were here all summer. You're leaving now, so he's going to go do some work for the Order-"

"Why wouldn't he stay with you? I thought you two were back-"

"We have to get going," Sirius said abruptly, and without another word he transformed into his Animagus form, lolloping away from her and to Harry's side.

Eleanor was stunned. She felt even worse knowing she was leaving Sirius alone in the house with Kreacher. She just assumed Lupin would stay at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. In retrospect, there had been no real reason for her to assume this, but she had read all her mother's old diaries. Sirius and Remus loved each other, and after twelve years apart, why would they spend another day without the other? If it were her and Fred that had been separated for so long, she would never want to leave his side again.

Confused, Eleanor pushed through the hallway and out the door. She caught up with Fred, George, and Ginny, who were all being escorted to King's cross by Lupin.

"You're supposed to be with Ron and Hermione," Lupin said frowning.

"Ginny, switch with me," she said.

"Eleanor, we aren't supposed-"

"Merlin, it isn't that big of a deal, just switch with me."

Ginny consented, although begrudgingly, and they were off. It wasn't a long walk to King's Cross, but Eleanor still wished they could just apparate instead. Everything was easier with magic.

"Ginny probably didn't want to be stuck with our new Gryffindor Prefects," Fred sneered.

"I don't blame her," George said as they walked, "but at least we can be sure there's no way Ron will ever take points from us. He knows better."

"Yeah, you'd probably turn his pillow into a giant spider," Eleanor felt her cheeks flush at the mention of Prefects. "Listen, they made me Head Girl. I really don't know why and it's honestly embarrassing so I would appreciate it if we just don't talk-"

"That's brilliant!" Fred exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.

"What?"

That certainly wasn't the reaction Eleanor was expecting.

"If you're head girl, you help plan Assassins. If you're planning it, one of us is sure to win."

"Shit, I completely forgot about Assassins," Eleanor said, stopping as well.

"You three, hurry up or you're going to miss the train!" Lupin called to them from a few yards ahead.

They picked up their pace, running into King's Cross just in time to catch the train. Eleanor hugged Lupin and the Weasley's, waved to Tonks, and gave the shaggy dog that was Sirius a pat before hopping onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry and Eleanor watched out the window as Sirius disappear from view. Eleanor had a hunch Harry felt a similar way as she about leaving Sirius.

"Let's find Lee," Fred said, grabbing Eleanor by the arm and leading her down the corridor.

"Oh yay, the gang's all here!" Angelina called from a compartment to the right.

Angelina was sitting closest to the window, grinning as Fred, George, and Eleanor entered. Iris was sitting to her right, picking split ends out of her hair. Across from them, Alicia was sitting with a muggle book in her hand. She was leaning her head against the window and looked up to smile sweetly at Eleanor before returning to her book. Alfie was sitting next to Alicia, tinkering with a small, metal object in his hand. Lee sat against the window on the floor, his long legs outstretched, a copy of _The Quibbler_ in his lap.

"It get's tighter in here every year," George said as he climbed over Iris to sit next to Lee on the floor.

"It's because Lee and Alfie won't stop growing," Iris said, moving her legs to make room for George. 

"Oh, don't be jealous Ire," George said stretching his legs out to purposefully force Iris to pull her legs upon the seat, "it's not their fault you stopped growing at age twelve."

Iris scowled, but the rest of the compartment laughed. Eleanor had just sat down next Iris, Fred next to Alfie, when the compartment door slid open again.

"Hey, can I sit with you guys? Ron and Hermione are off in the Prefect's carriage getting instructed on their new duties or whatever."

Harry was standing awkwardly in the doorway. Eleanor felt a surge of anger at Ron and Hermione before reminding herself that it wasn't their fault Harry was being excluded.

"There really isn't room," Iris said with a frown.

"Nah, Eleanor can sit on my lap," Fred said, "and then there will be plenty of room for Harry."

Fred patted his lap and Eleanor felt her face grow warm. If she were sitting on his lap at least he would be looking at the back of her head and not her reddening face. She moved across the compartment and sat in his lap. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in close to his chest. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat, his hand gripping the bare skin of her hip where her shirt had ridden up. She wanted to turn around and kiss him. She didn't care who was watching.

_You can't, you know you can't. It's already been decided..._

"Wait, if Ron's in the prefect carriage, shouldn't you be there too?" George asked Eleanor.

"You say that, knowing full well Eleanor couldn't tell you where the Prefect carriage is if you threatened her," Alicia said, closing her book. "She even got Alfie to stop going after fifth year."

"Eleanor isn't a prefect anymore. She's the new Head Girl," Fred said, his breath hot on Eleanor's neck.

 _Think about anything else,_ Eleanor thought _,_ _think about whatever the hell is going on with Sirius and Lupin._

"No way," Lee said, stuffing the sandwich his mother had packed him into his mouth, "how'd you manage that?"

Eleanor shrugged.

"Wasn't my choice."

"I didn't think you'd get Head Girl," Alicia said with a frown.

"What do you mean you didn't think she'd get Head Girl," Iris retorted, "obviously she would. I mean you helped with whatever happened in the basement with those three-headed dogs in our third year. And then you and Harry fought a giant snake in the Chamber of Secrets in our fourth year. And everyone knows you helped Harry get through all those tasks in the Triwizard Tournament. Without you he probably would have died-"

"Sitting right here," Harry muttered.

"Right, Sorry Harry. I'm just saying, she's like, the best witch in our year."

"I don't doubt that," Alicia said, "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just... you're always in trouble."

Everyone had been shocked in their fifth year when Eleanor was made prefect over Alicia. The assumption was that Alfie and Alicia would be the Gryffindor Prefects. No one had been more shocked by her appointment than Eleanor herself. She was quite aware that she earned the title more due to her last name than anything else. The subject of becoming prefect was something in which she avoided talking about with Alicia. Alicia deserved it more than she did.

"Yeah, well Eleanor has officially been given the title of Humungous Git," George said, "whether she deserves it or not."

"She deserves it," Fred said defiantly, "both the title of Head Girl and Humungous Git."

"I don't," Eleanor said quickly, sparing a glance at Alicia who had returned to her book. "I mean, I'm not even helping the new prefects when I should be. They're fine though, the older prefects can tell them whatever they need to know."

"Stop being so modest, it's annoying," Iris rolled her eyes, "I wonder who Head Boy is. Guess it isn't you then Alfie."

"If you're Head Girl then you plan Assassins!" Angelina said suddenly.

"Uh, she plans what?" Harry asked, looking around the compartment in confusion.

"Assassins!" Angelina repeated.

"What's that?"

"How have you been at Hogwarts for five years now and you still don't know about the Assassin's tradition?"

Harry shrugged, looking to Eleanor for clarification. Eleanor opened her mouth to explain but became distracted as Fred readjusted his grip on her, his hands sliding under her shirt across her stomach.

"It's just a game the seventh-year students play every year," Alicia told Harry when Eleanor didn't respond.

"How do you play?"

"Basically, everyone in seventh year gets assigned another person in the year. The person you're assigned to is essentially your target. The goal is to successfully stun your target without them blocking it. When you stun a target, they've been "assassinated", so they're out of the game. You then inherit their target, and the game keeps going as such until there's one winner."

"You have to be on the lookout for getting stunned yourself," Angelina added, "because, like Alicia said, once you're stunned, you're out of the game."

"It's all about the element of surprise," Lee said in between bites of his sandwich. "The target assignments are secret, so unless you're an idiot and blab who you got, you don't know who to be cautious around."

"Your best friend, boyfriend, anyone could be the person assigned to take you out," Iris said, excitement in her voice, "so you have to be super careful about who you trust."

"It's ruined friendships," George said, "it's actually why Penelope and Percy broke up."

"You're joking," Harry laughed, "they broke up over a stupid game?"

"First of all Harry, the game is not stupid," Fred started.

_His lips are really close to my neck; I wonder if he can see how red my face is..._

"Second of all, yes they did. Percy 'accidentally' told everyone who Penelope's target was, which made it hard for her to stun them. Penelope was in the top four too, everyone thought she might win. And then, good old Percy fucked it up for her."

"You said accidentally like you didn't really mean it," Harry pointed out.

"George and I think he may have done it on purpose. He was out in the first round; didn't stun a single target. We think he was jealous and decided that if he couldn't win, she couldn't either."

"Damn. Do the professors supervise?"

"Ah, no. The professors are bound to know about it, but they don't say anything. I think it's kind of a look-the-other-way-as-long-as-no-one-is-severely-injured type deal. The seventh years have been doing it for ages; it's like a right of passage."

"Sirius won his year," Eleanor said, before realizing her audience.

"Sirius Black?" Iris said, turning her head quickly to look at Eleanor.

"Uh, yeah."

_Shit._

"Why do you know that?"

"It was her parent's year, she read about it in her mom's diary," Fred said quickly, giving Eleanor a quick squeeze around the waist as if to say _watch yourself._

"Oh, but why did you say his name like that-"

"Since the professors aren't involved," Fred cut Iris off, "Head Girl and Head Boy play gamekeeper. They decide the prize for the winner, the rules for the year, and they help settle any disputes that arise. They play too, but they also help oversee."

"So, Eleanor's in charge?" Harry said, smiling slightly. "All hell's going to break lose."

"Exactly," Angelina said happily, "it's going to be a great year for Assassins."

At that moment, the door to their compartment slid open once more, Ron and Hermione standing in the frame.

"Ugh, can no one see that this compartment is full!" Iris said, exasperated.

"We're just looking for Harry," Hermione said defensively, "Eleanor, you didn't tell us you made Head Girl! You were supposed to be in the Prefect's carriage helping us."

"Well, do you know what you're supposed to be doing?" Eleanor responded.

"Yes, but-"

"Then what does it matter?"

"It's your _job_ ," Hermione sighed, "and if you aren't going to attend the meeting, then maybe you should at least be patrolling the train."

"Why would I be patrolling the train corridors?"

"Because that's what Prefects do!"

"Hm, I didn't know that. Guess I wouldn't have been much help in that meeting anyways."

"Who's Head Boy Ron?" Iris asked as Eleanor ignored the annoyed look Hermione was giving her.

"That Slytherin bloke, Montague," Ron said with a frown, "which is why I wish you had been there Eleanor. The power seems to have gotten to his head. He tried taking 10 points from Hufflepuff right off the bat because Hannah Abbott asked a question while he was talking. I don't think points count until we get to Hogwarts though."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Ron," Eleanor said, and she meant it.

"Montague?" Angelina groaned. "Why would they make Montague Head Boy?"

"It should have been Alfie," Iris grumbled.

Alfie looked up from the odd object in his hand and smiled at Iris.

"Thanks Iris-"

"Montague will probably be the Slytherin Quidditch captain too," George said thoughtfully, "he's helped the team win all those years. He rallies the Slytherin's well, they probably picked him because he's a good leader."

"What the actual fuck George," Fred stared at his twin in disbelief, "why are you defending Montague?"

The tips of George's ears became quite pink, and in that moment, he reminded Eleanor very much of Ron. He looked to her as if asking for help.

"We all know it would have been Cedric," Eleanor said, changing the subject.

The silence in their small compartment was deafening. Fred's hands dropped off Eleanor's midriff at the mention of Cedric's name. The group had yet to discuss Cedric's death, at least not in Eleanor's presence. Even though Cedric and Eleanor broke up in their fifth year, having someone she cared about die a year later was painful.

"Yeah, he would have been," Alfie said quietly, reaching over to squeeze Eleanor's knee.

"Uh, well we just wanted to grab Harry and find a compartment," Ron said uncomfortably, shifting in the door, "this one's, uh, full I guess, so... Harry?"

Harry's eyes were glossed over. Eleanor assumed the mention of Cedric's name had forced him to relive the painful memory of watching him die. Her heart was heavy with grief not only for Cedric, but for Harry's last bit of innocence.

Harry shook off his daze, glancing up at Ron. He waved goodbye to Eleanor, thanking the group for letting him sit with them, before leaving with his friends. The door shut behind them, bringing about a new conversation.

"Which of us do you think will be Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain?" Angelina asked eagerly, looking around at her friends.

"Angelina, just admit your fishing for a compliment and get off it," Lee said, "we all know it's going to be you."

"I was not fishing for a compliment..."

Angelina and Lee were still arguing. Eleanor shifted in Fred's lap, making to go back to her original seat when George jumped up, settling himself in the empty chair. Eleanor scowled at him, before leaning back into Fred's chest. If she was going to be sitting like this the whole ride, she may as well get comfortable. She could feel Fred's breath on the side of her face, his lips brushing up against the side of her temple. He put his arms back around her waist, though not as tightly as before. If she could, Eleanor would have liked to stay like this forever, just her and Fred.

"This is like, our final journey guys," Iris said.

"Oh, don't get sappy on us now," George said playfully.

"I'm not," she retorted, "I'm just saying. It feels like yesterday we were meeting for the first time in the Great Hall. I like living with you all, I don't want to grow up and not have you guys around." 

"We'll always be around," Alfie said smiling, "We've been through far too much stuff together to ever lose touch."

Everyone in the compartment nodded. Eleanor wondered if there had been any other year in the History of Hogwarts that got along as well as they did. She loved every single Gryffindor seventh year with her entire heart. She would have died for any of them.

They spent the rest of the train ride eating sweets and laughing. Eleanor stayed leaning against Fred, trying to soak up the moment while it lasted. They teased her about being Head Girl; teased Lee about his boyfriend, and their old quidditch captain, Oliver Wood; teased Iris about pretty much everything under the sun; and the twins argued over which of them had come up with the idea for their skiving Snackboxes. They avoided the topic of Cedric and Voldemort's return entirely. Everything was perfect.

And for one last time, they sat together on the Hogwarts Express with the innocence of their youth still intact. 


	13. The First Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Graphic Violence depicted in this chapter

Eleanor vividly remembered the first time she rode on the Hogwarts of Express with the twins. After spending the last nine years as an outsider at Hogwarts, she was excited to finally have an actual place at the school. The twins were just as excited, although their joy could mainly be attributed to getting out from under their mother’s thumb.

The three of them made a list over the summer detailing what they wanted to accomplish during their first year at Hogwarts. This list included:

  1. Sneak into the Forbidden Forest
  2. After successfully sneaking into the Forbidden Forest, catch sight of the giant spider Eleanor “claims” she once saw
  3. Sneak into Hogsmeade on Halloween (allows for two months of preparation)
  4. Sneak into every house common room
  5. Spend an entire night in the Forbidden Forest
  6. Find a way to make Severus Snape cry
  7. Somehow trick Professor McGonagall into saying “My three bitches”
  8. Successfully trick everyone into believing Fred is George and George is Fred for a week



Eleanor was having trouble imagining how they were ever going to get Professor McGonagall to address them as her “three bitches”, but it was worth a shot. Other than that goal, Eleanor believed the rest of the list to be reasonable. She was used to sneaking into the Forbidden Forest with Charlie, and she wasn’t worried about the creatures that lived there. She was pretty sure that calling Professor Snape ‘ _Snivellus’_ would send him into a tailspin. The rest would be easy enough once she got ahold of the map her father and godfathers created during their time at Hogwarts. She thought Filch might’ve nicked it from them a while back, but she wasn’t certain.

As the train moved out of the station, the three of them stood in the middle of the corridor arguing about where to sit.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just sit with Charlie,” Eleanor whined as students pushed past them to find seats of their own. “I always sit with Charlie.”

“We won’t meet anyone if we sit with Charlie,” Fred argued, “besides, he has prefect duties for the first half of the ride.”

“You can sit with me if you’d like,” Percy said from behind Eleanor.

“I don’t want to sit with you or your pompous friends,” Fred retorted, grabbing Eleanor by the sleeve of her robes and pulling her down the corridor. She shot an apologetic look back in Percy’s direction before giving in to Fred.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Eleanor said, frowning at the back of Fred’s head.

“What? Come off it.”

“Nah, she’s right Fred. He was just trying to be nice,” George didn’t look directly at Fred as he contradicted him.

“Whatever. I just think we should meet people in our own year before everyone buddies off.”

Eleanor wondered if Fred was nervous. She couldn’t remember a time when she had seen Fred nervous. Yet here he was, snapping at everyone as he looked desperately around the train.

“Do any of them look like they might be in our year Eleanor?” George asked, looking into a compartment containing a few girls.

“No, that’s Grace Abbott, she’s a year ahead of us.”

“What about them?”

“Penelope Clearwater, Percy’s year.”

“Bleh. This one?”

Eleanor peered into the compartment George was pointing at. She didn’t recognize any of them. On one side sat two, lanky boys. The one closest to the window looked almost malnourished, with an odd tint to his pale skin. His dark, brown hair was messy, but not in a way that appeared unkept. His robes were fitted perfectly to his frame and they had an air of crispness to them that exuded money. If he hadn’t looked so nervous, she would have been intimidated by him.

The boy on his right was his opposite in every way. Rather than acting uncomfortable, this boy had made himself right at home. He was lounging in his seat, laughing loudly. His hands moved in an animated fashion every time he spoke. Eleanor couldn’t help but notice how cute he was. He had dreadlocks down to his shoulders and his handsome face radiated his warm nature. It was as if his smile could brighten the darkest of days.

Across from the two, oddly paired boys was the prettiest girl Eleanor had ever seen. She looked to be East Asian, her black hair falling in waves to her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. She sat tall, shoulders back, with her head held high. Eleanor felt a surge of jealousy before the girl looked over and smiled kindly at her from behind the window to the compartment. The girl seemed perfectly friendly, and Eleanor was instantly ashamed of herself. 

“I think they’re new,” Eleanor whispered to Fred and George.

“Great, let’s introduce ourselves,” Fred said, sliding the compartment door open.

Eleanor’s stomach jolted. She had always been a little socially awkward. She didn’t like to meet new people or go through awkward pleasantries. Her last name came with plenty of unwanted questions. She wished Fred and George would have just let her sit with Charlie. She didn’t need any new friends; she was just fine with their little trio.

“Can we join you?” George asked.

“Yeah of course!” The boy with dreadlocks responded, looking genuinely happy at their arrival.

“Are you all first years?” Fred asked, stowing his trunk in the luggage bin above the girl’s head.

“Yeah, we were just introducing ourselves,” the boy put his hand to his chest, “I’m Lee Jordan. This here next to me is Alfie… uh, shit. Alfie what did you say your last name was again?”

“Nott. I’m Alfie Nott,” the mousey looking boy shifted uncomfortably as he spoke.

“And I’m Isabella,” the girl said with a soft smile.

Eleanor moved to sit next to Isabella. Fred shoved Eleanor’s trunk above her head and then plopped himself down next to her as George moved to sit between Alfie and Lee.

“And you all are?” Lee probed.

“I’m Fred and that ugly bloke sitting next to you is my brother George.”

“Twins,” Isabella said simply, looking between them.

“Nah, we were both adopted actually. Met at the orphanage.”

Lee laughed while Isabella looked at Fred out of the corner of her eyes as though sizing him up. She must have deemed his response irritating, as she turned to look directly at Eleanor before asking, “and you?”

“Um, Eleanor.”

“Eleanor? Like Eleanor Potter?”

All heads turned to Eleanor. She looked at the ground before nodding stiffly, shifting unconsciously closer to Fred.

“She’s really not that cool though,” Fred said, “we met her at the orphanage too.”

Eleanor laughed and the mood in the compartment lightened a bit.

“So, did you see you-know-who-”

“What house do you guys think you’ll get sorted into?” Fred asked, cutting into Lee’s sentence.

“Gryffindor, it just feels right,” Eleanor said, shooting Fred a grateful smile.

“You’ll definitely be Gryffindor, both your parents were,” George said, “just like Fred and I. Our whole family’s Gryffindor. I don’t see us being the ones to break that streak.”

“Just because your parents were in a certain house doesn’t guarantee you’ll be sorted into the same one,” Isabella interrupted before adding, “it must make it more likely though.”

“My dad was a Ravenclaw, but I have a feeling I won’t be,” Lee said with a shrug, “dad reckons I’ll go Hufflepuff.”

“What was your mum?” Eleanor asked.

“She’s a muggle, so she didn’t go to Hogwarts. My dads been explaining the sorting process to her, but she’s still a bit confused. She told me she’d be proud of me no matter where I end up.”

“That’s nice,” Alfie said under his breath.

“Where do you think you’ll be Alfie?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, “my parents are really hoping I’m sorted into Slytherin. Maybe hoping is the wrong word. They told me it’s about time I toughen up and act like a proper pureblood. My entire family line has been sorted into Slytherin, so it’s what I’m expected to do. I just don’t think I fit the criteria.”

“My parents were Slytherin too,” Isabella said curtly, “they think the same will go for me, but we aren’t sure. I think Gryffindor is also a possibility.”

“So, they won’t be angry with you if you don’t make Slytherin?” Alfie asked anxiously.

“Merlin, no. They don’t really care. All your house does is determine where you’ll sleep and who you’re going to be forced to spend the next seven years with. It doesn’t decide how well you do or what you learn. That you figure out on your own.”

Alfie nodded. He was tapping his feet nervously against the floor. He looked as though he might make sick all over himself.

“Wherever you end up will be lucky to have you,” Eleanor said softly.

For the first time, Alfie looked away from the window and smiled genuinely. She smiled back, hoping for his sake he would be sorted into Slytherin. The way Alfie described his family reminded Eleanor of Lucius Malfoy. Those were the sort of people you did not want to make angry.

“And we can all still hang out, even if we’re sorted into different houses,” Isabella pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s true. You don’t have to sit with your house at mealtimes, you can sit wherever you want. And you can always study together in the library. Most people tend to keep to their houses though,” Eleanor added the last part sullenly.

“How do you know all that?” Lee asked.

“I… well I’ve lived at Hogwarts for a while now.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Just worked out that way I guess.”

“Didn’t you have someone who could have taken care of you after your… you know, parents died?”

“Obviously not if she’s been living at Hogwarts,” Isabella said, very matter-of-factly.

“No godparents?”

_Well, one is in Azkaban and the other is a werewolf who Albus Dumbledore deemed unfit to care for a child on his own._

“No, no godparents.” 

“Grandparents?”

“The Potter’s both died a year after I was born. They lived long enough to see my dad graduate and then died within months of each other. My mum’s parents were muggles. The Death Eaters killed them right after Harry was born.”

“The Death Eaters killed your grandparents?” Isabella’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Yeah. They were trying to find my parents, so they went after everyone who knew them. I guess Vold-, sorry you-know-who, thought they might know where my family was. When my grandparents couldn’t tell them anything, they just…”

Eleanor couldn’t find it in herself to explain any further. She learned the story of the Evans family murder while looking through old Newspaper clippings in the Hogwarts library. Normally the _Daily Prophet_ wouldn’t report on muggle murders, but their killings were so gruesomely public that they had to.

Her grandparents were tortured for hours on end, forced to watch the person they loved most in the world suffer in between bouts of their own personal torment. In the end, the Death Eaters realized the Evans had no valuable information and decided to have their fun. Fenrir Greyback tore her grandmother to shreds while her grandfather sat in a body bind, unable to do anything but watch. When he was done with her, they disemboweled her grandfather, letting him die as slowly as possible.

To top it all off, they gathered what remained of the two bodies and took them to Diagon Alley, where they were laid to rot at the base of Gringotts. The Death Eaters hoped their bodies would serve as a reminder to wizarding kind that muggles were no match for what Wizards were capable of. Even more so, they hoped the public display would get back to Lily and James Potter faster than if they had abandoned the bodies all together. Somewhere, lost in Eleanor’s memory, she could picture her mother sobbing, splashed out on the floor, as her father held her tight.

“That’s sick,” Isabella whispered, “why did they even want to find your family so badly?”

_Harry._

“No idea,” Eleanor lied, “but that’s Death Eaters for you.”

Alfie squirmed in his seat. He was gazing fixedly out the window, refusing to look at anyone else in the compartment.

“Then where’s Harry?” Lee asked.

“What?”

“Does he also spend the year at Hogwarts?”

Eleanor wished they would stop asking her questions.

“No, he lives with my Aunt. She’s a muggle… Dumbledore didn’t think she wanted to raise two wizard children.”

That was another lie. She had no idea why Dumbledore didn’t send her to live with Harry and Aunt Petunia. She assumed her aunt didn’t want her, that no one really wanted her.

“What can you tell us about the Sorting Ceremony?” Alfie asked suddenly.

Eleanor was surprised by this change of subject. Alfie hadn’t spoken up, unless spoken to, before that moment. When Eleanor looked at him, she had the feeling that he too wanted the discussion regarding Voldemort to end.

He looked toward her, his hazel eyes meeting hers. For one fleeting second, she sensed that the two of them were connected in ways she could not yet fathom. It seemed as though they created an instantaneous understanding; they would not be discussing Voldemort with these people any further.

“It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just the sorting hat.”

“What’s the sorting hat?”

They spent the rest of the train ride this way, the others asking Eleanor what to expect at Hogwarts. She preferred this line of questioning, but still felt as though Charlie would have made better company.

In the end, Alfie and Lee’s predictions were proven false. They both were sorted into Gryffindor, causing Lee quite the excitement but producing a near panic attack in Alfie. Isabella Hart was put into Slytherin and although they never ended up seeking her out after the train, she was not an unfriendly face. As long as you got her away from Montague, she was quite pleasant to talk to. In fact, Eleanor often found herself wondering what her relationship with Isabella would have turned into if she had been sorted into Gryffindor. If only. 


	14. An Excess of Montague

“Before we begin, congratulations are in order for the pair of you. You are apart of an incredibly talented cohort of students that made choosing this year’s Head Boy and Head Girl quite the task. I welcome the rest of the professors in joining me for a round of applause with respect to this achievement.”

The staffroom was littered with polite applause at Albus Dumbledore’s words. Dumbledore beamed at Montague and Eleanor, who sat awkwardly in front of the staff. Montague smiled broadly, nodding his head forward slightly in appreciation of the acknowledgement. Eleanor wasn’t sure how to handle so much attention. She smiled politely but was quite aware that her smile never reached her eyes. She looked back at her feet, wishing Dumbledore would just get on with the stupid thing.

“First things first, how were all the new prefects? Were there any issues on the train?”

 _Ah, here we go_ , Eleanor thought.

Cedric would have lied for her if he were here, but he wasn’t here. He was currently laying at the bottom of a dirt grave, rotting away. Montague on the other hand didn’t feel any sense of loyalty to her. He would have absolutely no problem ratting her out.

_Maybe then you can get out of this before it even begins._

“I wonder how some of the prospects will handle their new positions. Specifically, I question Hannah Abbot and Ronald Weasley’s appointments, but I believe in second chances,” Montague gave a winning smile, “other than that, I think everything went according to plan. Wouldn’t you agree, Eleanor?”

Eleanor was impressed at her own ability to hide her surprise. She looked over at Montague, who was staring back at her with an annoyingly fixed smile on his face. She wondered what game he was playing at.

“I would agree, although I do counter that Hannah and Ron will make fine Prefects.”

“Potter, we were all surprised by the appointment of Ronald Weasley. There is no reason for you to pretend otherwise,” Snape said slowly, his cold eyes staring unblinkingly at her.

“I trust the Headmaster’s judgement,” Eleanor responded with her best attempt at false niceties.

_Not really but fuck you Snape._

“As do I,” Professor McGonagall said curtly, ending any further conversation on the topic.

“I am happy to hear the train ride went smoothly,” Dumbledore continued as though neither Montague nor Snape had just insulted Ron.

Eleanor wished he would have come to Ron’s defense. He had been the one to appoint him after all, and he should have defended that decision. Yes, Eleanor thought Harry would have made just as good of a Prefect, but there truly wasn’t much difference between making Harry or Ron Prefect. They were both kind of idiots. Idiots she loved very much, but idiots nonetheless.

“For the remainder of the year, you will continue to ensure that the Prefects are performing their duties properly. It is impertinent, especially in these first few weeks, that you are on the lookout for Prefects who are abusing their position of power-”

_Ah yes, something I already do._

“-for either their own gain or at the expense of others. If you see any behavior of this sort, I ask you to report it to that student’s head of house immediately.”

_When Draco bullies first years, I’ll be sure to report that to Snivellus right away. A lot of good that’ll do…_

“I expect you to have monthly meetings with the Prefects from all houses and years. You will need to check in on them and listen to any concerns they may have. Of course, monthly password changes are advised for the prefect bathrooms and for certain house common rooms. You will both have the knowledge of the password for each house dormitory along with the passwords for the staffroom and my office. I assume you both have the natural wit to make your way into the riddle encoded Ravenclaw common room if necessary.”

“You are both to sit on the school council. Essentially, you will listen to each council member’s concerns and wishes, giving input when necessary. Alicia Spinnet has been named head of the student council, so you will be maintaining a close relationship with her over the upcoming year. You are to report any real concerns back to me.”

Eleanor smiled at the mention of Alicia.

“It is obvious that you are both are leaders to the community we have created here at Hogwarts. You will have a peer mentorship of sorts with the school prefects; I’m sure you expected as much. However, you are role models to the entire school, and that is something to keep in mind. If a professor finds that a student seems to be struggling, whether academically, behaviorally, or socially, they may choose to inform you so that you can help.”

_Why the hell did I get chosen for this?_

“Lastly, you will be making quarterly meeting with the Board of Governors-”

“What?” Eleanor asked suddenly, her stomach dropping.

“Yes, most students are surprised by this task, but it is not as daunting as it sounds. The Board of Governors simply meet with you to assure that the school is being run smoothly enough by the standards of the student body. They wish for a student perspective on the atmosphere of Hogwarts.”

“Isn’t Lucius Malfoy on the Board of Governors?” Eleanor asked uncomfortably.

_If he is, I am not doing it. They cannot possibly make me; I swear I’ll quit._

“Yes, he is, along with a great deal of other wizards. You will not be discussing matters one-on-one with any of the governors.”

Eleanor shifted in her chair, choosing to look at the wardrobe in the staffroom corner rather than at any of the professors.

“Similarly, you will be attending monthly staff meetings for the same purpose.”

“I believe Eleanor and I are up to the challenge,” Montague gave another pompous smile, “you made the right choice in selecting us to head Hogwarts.”

_Why the fuck does he keep lumping me in with him?_

“Yeah, it seems… doable,” Eleanor added lamely.

“One last thing,” Dumbledore’s smile left his face, and he became quite solemn, “we are all well aware that the loss of a fellow student is still fresh in the hearts of many who attend this school. Cedric Diggory’s death weighs heavily upon staff and students alike, but you all were the ones who grew up with him. We understand that grief expresses itself in different ways and want to assure you that we will be on the lookout for students who are suffering. Please let us know if you or anyone you know needs extra guidance.”

Eleanor nodded stiffly. The last person she wanted to talk to about Cedric was Dumbledore. The Triwizard tournament shouldn’t have been allowed in the first place. Peter Pettigrew would never have gotten back to Voldemort if someone had just listened to Sirius. Dumbledore put his entire reputation on the line for Snape but didn’t so much as bat an eye for Sirius. The whole thing sickened her. He sickened her.

“Again, I want to offer my sincerest of congratulations-”

“ _Hem, hem_ ,” a high-pitched noise rang through the staffroom.

Montague and Eleanor turned to look at the woman who had made the noise. Professor Umbridge had stood up, although it was hard to tell the difference between her sitting and standing. She was an incredibly short woman.

“I would like to offer the Ministry’s congratulations to you as well,” she said in a voice so sweet it gave Eleanor a stomachache, “many prominent Ministry officials have started just as you two are now, in the position of Head Boy and Girl. The Minister of Magic has asked me personally to pass along this information to the Head students and staff - If any of you are to hear any talk from the students about you-know-who’s alleged return, please send them to see me.”

Montague’s poster-boy smile faltered. He looked at Eleanor for a fraction of a second, his face unreadable. After a moment, he hitched the smile back onto his face, looking toward Umbridge.

“Why would we report to you rather than the Headmaster?” He asked, his tone quite similar to that in which Umbridge had used previously.

“I am a representative of the Ministry, and the Minister believes that any children who fear the alleged return of you-know-who should be assured by the institution that these ludicrous claims are false. We don’t want anyone here running amuck with worry.”

Eleanor hated her. Yes, hate is a strong word, but it was appropriate for Umbridge. She had been a bitch at Harry’s trial and now here she was being a bitch again. She looked like an over-grown six-year-old, covered head to toe in bubblegum pink with the ugliest bow in her hair.

“Are we dismissed Headmaster?” Eleanor asked, refusing to acknowledge Umbridge’s words.

“I believe that is everything,” said Dumbledore, but a small frown was now present on his face.

Eleanor and Montague both rose from their chairs. Montague went on to thank the staff repeatedly, giving a small bow and promising to live up to their every expectation, before turning to leave. Eleanor muttered an awkward ‘thanks’ and followed in suit. He was waiting for her in the hall.

“If that ugly toad fucks with our seventh year, I’m writing to my mother and having her fired. I’m not reporting anything to her, she isn’t my superior. Umbridge isn’t even a notable family name, I’ve never heard of her. She’s stuck so far up Fudge’s ass, it’s unbearable .”

Montague’s demeanor changed entirely now that they were away from the staff. He was fuming, his face set hard in contempt. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been overheard. The two set off toward their respective dormitories, which unfortunately were in the same general direction.

“I mean, you may be a half blood but at least you’re a Potter. You would have been a pureblood if you’re father hadn’t gone off with a mudblood-”

“Would you shut your fucking mouth,” Eleanor snarled.

Montague looked slightly taken aback. His prejudices were ingrained so deeply in his mind, he actually believed that he had given her a compliment by mentioning her “almost noble bloodline.”

“I swear everyone these days take everything so personally-”

“Why did you cover for me?” Eleanor shot.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell Dumbledore I was absent from the Prefect meeting. That would have made you look pretty good and me pretty shitty. So, why’d you pass up on that?”

Montague raised his eyebrow, looking smugly down at her.

“Isn’t that obvious? You’re the best person to be planning Assassins with _because_ you don’t give a shit about any of our responsibilities. I don’t mind shouldering all the work, I suspect that’s how most Head Boys feel-”

_Merlin he’s unbearable._

“-but I actually like it better knowing you won’t try to get in my way. You’ll allow the games to be fun, that’s all I need from you. Besides, I’m sure you will give me plenty of opportunities to outshine you in the future.”

Eleanor didn’t hate Montague the way she already knew she would come to hate Umbridge. He was the epitome of a privileged, white man. She could deal with him, because he was so pathetic in his attempts to feel superior to everyone else. Although, she still couldn’t stand to be in his presence a second longer.

“You should write to your mommy _now_ , Graham,” she sped up her pace, hoping to reach the point in which they would part faster, “we both know the Ministry won’t allow Assassins if Umbridge gets wind of it.”

“The Ministry needs to learn it’s fucking place,” he grunted.

“I’m surprised you feel that way.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Eleanor turned to head up the stairs that would lead to Gryffindor Tower; Montague continuing straight for the dungeons.

“Eleanor?” he called to her as she reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?”

“Would you mind having George-”

“Fine.” Eleanor turned back to the stairs and started climbing up.

“I know you don’t like me-” he called again, now standing at the bottom of the steps.

“You’re right, I really don’t,” she said without turning back.

“-and I don’t really care-”

“Why would you, I’m a scummy half blood with a muggle born mother aren’t I?”

“-but he does, so maybe if you could at least-”

“I am trying!” She finally stopped halfway up the stairs, her blood boiling as she looked down at him. “I said I would tell him, and I’m going to. I always do, don’t I? I don’t put a stop to it even though I should. You’re the one who still makes disgusting remarks about me and my family. _You’re_ the asshole, not me. If you asked him, I’m sure he would agree.”

Montague bit his lip uncomfortably. He sighed, before returning her gaze.

“I do care about-”

“And I love him. The distinction in the wording makes all the difference Graham.”

She turned on the spot and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. She was worried Montague would try to talk to her again, but he didn’t. She was grateful that the rest of her walk would be in solitary peace.

When she entered the Gryffindor common room, it was almost all cleared out. The only ones who remained were her fellow seventh years, all of whom were sprawled out in front of the fireplace. A bottle of wine was being passed around as everyone laughed at something Fred had said.

“Hey,” she sighed, sliding onto the floor next to Alfie.

“How was your Humungous Git meeting?” George asked.

“It was fine,” she shrugged, “that Umbridge woman told Montague and I we need to report anyone talking about Voldemort-”

Shudders ran across the room.

“-to her so she can assure them that Harry is a liar.”

“Fred told us you recognized her from the Ministry,” Angelina frowned. “Why is someone from the Ministry teaching us defense against the dark arts? She isn’t even an ex-Auror or anything. She just doesn’t seem qualified.”

“She’s probably spying on Dumbledore,” Alfie said wisely.

There was a murmur of agreement.

“We aren’t going to like her; I promise you that.”

Fred passed the bottle of wine to Eleanor and she took a swig. There wasn’t nearly enough to get her, nor anyone else in the room, drunk. She hoped it would at least help her sleep.

“George can you go get me some food?”

Eleanor refused to look in his direction as she spoke. Instead, she picked at rug upon which they sat before taking another swig of red wine.

“Oh really? Are you sure, it’s pretty late…” George’s sentence trailed off, but she still didn’t raise her eyes to look at him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said sternly, “but I’m sure I’m hungry.” 

“I can go get you something Ella,” Fred started to get to his feet.

“No!” George said quickly, jumping up. “I mean, it’s my job. I’m kitchen bitch, I earned the title. I’ll just… I’ll go.”

“Why does he get that way about kitchen duty?” Fred asked as he watched his brother scurry out of the portrait hole.

Eleanor shrugged. She wanted so badly to tell Fred, but she had promised George. Besides, George was keeping a fair share of her own secrets from Fred at the moment.

“He’s just weird,” she muttered.

“Well, I hate to leave you all, but I’m exhausted. I waited up to see you Eleanor, but it’s time for bed,” Alicia stood up, yawning.

“I’m going to follow you up,” Angelina said, rubbing her eyes, “that wine made me more exhausted than I already was.”

Iris, Lee, and Alfie nodded in agreement, and the five of them left the common room. Eleanor could hear the three girls laughing softly as they walked up the stairs to the dormitory.

“You won’t leave me down here all alone, will you Fred?”

“Never,” he promised with a wink.

She moved to sit next to him on the couch, her tired body making decisions on its own. She laid her head down on his thigh, watching the fire die slowly in the fireplace.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when we leave this place,” she whispered.

“You have the whole world in front of you,” Fred said, his fingers twirling a piece of her hair carelessly. “Of all the people I know, you could do the most.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” she muttered, “you know exactly what you want to do. I know what I have to do. I fight Voldemort.”

The fire crackled, a log falling over as it died further still. She took another swig of wine, some of it spilling onto Fred’s pants.

“I’ll be fighting there with you,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she whispered, setting the bottle down to stroke her thumb back and forth across his knee.

And they stayed like that. Her head resting against his knee, him stroking her hair, watching as the last embers of the fire burned out. She felt her eyes drooping. She wished she could follow Fred to his dormitory and lay there with him until she fell asleep. She didn’t need to kiss him; she didn’t want to fuck him. All she wanted in that moment was for him to hold her close while she slept.

But instead, they sat there fighting sleep, waiting for George to return with food she didn’t want to eat.


	15. I'll See You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Chapter mentions suicidal ideation.

" _Lily, take the kids and go! It’s him! I’ll hold him off!”_

_“Where’s Ella? James, she isn’t upstairs! ELLA!”_

_"ELLA! ELLA!”_

Their voices were louder than usual. The early evening light filtered through the classroom windows, bathing the rows of students in golden light. The glint of the lake could be seen out of the arched window to her right. It was a beautiful day, just as it had been the whole week.

_“ELLA!”_

The lake would feel cool on her skin. If she went out during dinner, she would be left all alone. Maybe, if she treaded out far enough into the water, she wouldn’t have enough energy to swim back to shore. Maybe she would become tangled in the undergrowth and slip below the water’s surface. Maybe something lurking in the lake would grab ahold of her ankle and pull her into the depths of the murky water. Her lungs would fill with fluid as her head exploded in pain from the lack of oxygen. She would never have leave Hogwarts. Her bones would forever lie in the muddy seabed long after the fish picked away at her flesh.

It would be reported as an unfortunate accident or, better yet, they would never know what happened to her. After she vanished from thin air, they’d comb though the forbidden forest long before checking the lake. She wouldn’t have to die for these people who refused to believe her brother. She wouldn’t have to die for people who would never die for her.

" _Ella this isn’t a game! ELLA!”_

She wouldn’t have to hear her parent’s last words anymore. She wouldn’t have to watch their bodies fall limp to the floor every time she closed her eyes.

“ _Ella, oh thank Merlin. Go upstairs; go join mommy and Harry.”_

She would die eventually anyways. She didn’t see an ending to this where both Potter children lived, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let Harry die. What was the point in waiting around to give Voldemort the satisfaction of finishing her off?

She knew the answer to that. She’d do it for them. For Harry. For the Weasleys. For Lee. For all those muggles who had no idea what was coming. For Alicia and Angelina. For Alfie and Iris. For James and Lily Potter.

_“But what about you daddy?”_

The silence of the classroom was amplifying her parent’s voices. Umbridge’s defense against the dark arts lessons were the perfect time to reflect on why she even bothered fighting. They were supposed to be reading their textbook, but no one was. Some sat half-asleep, looking glassy-eyed while the rest passed notes between themselves. She was sure some of those notes were discussing her and Harry.

She may have been naïve, but she had assumed the student body would believe that Voldemort was back. They had seen Harry return with Cedric’s body; they had been of the first to be informed of Voldemort’s return. They must feel some sort of loyalty to Harry after attending school with him for so long.

But as usual, they were nasty, just as they had been when Harry was chosen as champion last year. For Merlin’s sake, even Ron had been a prat over that. The student body was obsessed with the idea that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was a fame obsessed, privileged little boy who got away with everything.

It was as though they always forgot that he was the Boy Who Lived because of those who didn’t. He lived, but Lily and James Potter died. How anyone could think he wanted to be famous for losing their parents in one swift stroke, she had no idea. Their overall lack of empathy and common sense was mind boggling.

Eleanor would love to be privileged enough to not believe Voldemort was back but unfortunately, she had a functioning brain cell that forced her to face the truth rather than cower behind tempting lies. The Potters had the most to fear if Voldemort was truly back. He didn’t like to leave survivors. They were mistakes that needed to be reversed. The Potter line needed to be wiped clean off the Earth.

The first few days back at Hogwarts had been an eye-opener to Eleanor. She realized just how many people thought Harry was lying. They whispered to each other in the halls as he passed, not caring how obvious they were. Some of the younger students turned and ran in the opposite direction any time they saw him walking in their way. Others, like Draco Malfoy, made public displays of taunting Harry a daily occurrence. Overall, the school was acting as though Harry was mentally ill, and to be quite clear he most certainly was, but not in the way they believed him to be. They avoided him like the plague, only further isolating him. 

Eleanor found herself thankful for the first time that she had been made Head Girl. She had taken it upon herself to reign hell over anyone and anything that so much as breathed in Harry’s direction. She was taking points away from students at a pace to rival Snape. Just yesterday, she gave a fourth year Ravenclaw student a week of detention with Filch for daring her friend to ask Harry about Cedric. Even though the friend never completed the task, she gave her three days detention as well for even considering the prospect for a second. She took fifteen points from Gryffindor because she overheard Seamus telling Dean he didn’t want to dorm with Harry anymore. Fred had to physically restrain Eleanor from attacking Pansy Parkinson after she overheard Pansy tell Draco Harry should have been the one to die in the last task. Instead, she gave Pansy a month of detention with Hagrid in gamekeeping duties and took fifty points from Slytherin. The consensus throughout the school became quite clear- stay away from the Potters at all costs.

The only people currently daring to speak to Eleanor were her fellow Gryffindor seventh years and Harry. Even Montague seemed taken aback at the anger Eleanor was taking out on the entire school.

 _They’ll all fucking regret it soon enough,_ she thought to herself bitterly, _when it’s their families’ screams of terror that won’t stop ringing in their ears._

“Yes, Ms. Hart, is it?”

Umbridge’s voice cut across Eleanor’s rumination. Next to her, George jumped in his seat, his eyes bursting open. The whole class turned to look at Isabella, who sat tall, head held high, with her hand poised in the air.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Isabella spoke in a way that commanded greater authority than Umbridge could ever hope to muster, “but will we be reading the textbook every class?”

Umbridge appeared unfazed. This was their first class with Umbridge, but Harry had already made a scene earlier in the week regarding the same issue. Everyone entered the classroom that day expecting to do nothing. She wondered why Isabella was pressing the issue when they were all quite aware of what happened the last time someone did.

“What else would you have in mind for us to do during these lessons?” Umbridge asked, cocking her head slightly to look at Isabella.

“Teach us, for one,” Isabella said.

The color drained from Umbridge’s face; her sickly smile falling away.

“Mrs. Hart, I believe-”

“Because you see, I can very well sit in my dormitory and read a textbook. Your job is to elaborate on the learning we gain from the textbook, and it seems that you have no intention of doing so. I’m just wondering if I should drop this class, as currently it appears to be an absolute waste of my time.”

Eleanor couldn’t help it, she let out an audible laugh, holding her hand against her mouth to stifle the noise. The classroom was starting to fill with murmurs from the other students and Umbridge had dropped all pretenses.

“Mrs. Hart, I do believe the Ministry to be better informed on how to properly educate children than a seventeen year old witch. This is the new standard of teaching for this class, there is no need for students to be practicing dangerous spells of which you will have no real need of anytime in the immediate future.”

“I’m sorry, did I mention the practicing of dangerous spells in class?” Isabella pursed her lips, considering her own statement before continuing. “No, I don’t recall that I did. I simply asked if you would be _teaching_ us. That doesn’t necessarily imply practicing magic, although adequate teaching would. Again, my question wasn’t if you would be teaching well, I asked if you were teaching us period.” 

Eleanor laughed again, not attempting to hide it this time. Fred and George were gaping, awestruck in Isabella’s direction, whereas Montague looked as though he would have willingly strangled Isabella if it meant shutting her up.

“Is that how you normally speak to your professors, Mrs. Hart?”

“No, she’s quite polite to those who know how to teach,” the words slipped out of Eleanor’s mouth before she could help herself.

Fred and George snickered.

“You must raise your hand to speak in my class, Ms. Potter!”

“Yes, she’s right,” Isabella shot Eleanor an amused look, “I treat those who deserve respect well. Unfortunately, you have yet to gain my respect. You seem completely inadequate in the job position you currently hold. I think I’ll be dropping this course, but not before I write to my parents to inform them of the current, what did you call it, _standard of teaching_?”

Umbridge was shaking. She had loss complete control of the classroom by then, as students whispered back and forth, laughing at Isabella’s words.

“Have you met Isabella’s parents, Professor?” Eleanor added, the words flowing from her mouth faster than she could process their meaning. “Her father is on the Board of Governors if I remember correctly. He’s donated a lot of money to this school. And isn’t your mother on the Wizengamot?”

“Yes, she is,” Isabella said lazily, as she began gathering her belongings. She packed her bag, snapping it shut before standing up and addressing Umbridge one last time. “I don’t expect they’ll be very happy to hear what I have to say about the direction Hogwarts is headed in. The fact that the Headmaster allowed such an unqualified individual to teach young minds is appalling.”

No one spoke as Isabella turned on her heel, marching out of the classroom proudly. Heads turned as she passed until finally Isabella was out the door and out of sight. The classroom came alive with the buzzing of mutterings.

“I didn’t know she had it in her,” Lee whispered from behind Eleanor, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“I did,” Eleanor whispered back, keeping her eyes on Umbridge, “Isabella will always do what’s best for Isabella and Umbridge is certainly not what’s best for any of us.”

“SILENCE!” Umbridge roared, and a hush descended upon the classroom once again.

“She made a good point though,” Eleanor started again, inspired by Isabella, “you aren’t really a professor if we just sit here the whole time reading. It sounds more like a glorified babysitting gig to me. Although, that’s offensive to babysitters. They usually do things – cook, make sure the kids are healthy and happy-”

“I will not have another student disrespect me in my classroom!” Umbridge shrieked, her eyes bulging as she looked at Eleanor. “You and your brother have been empathized with for far too long. The lies you feel compelled to spread anytime you feel the spotlight fading from your family is pathetic. It’s a shame your parents died before they could teach the pair of you the importance of telling the truth-”

The mug on Umbridge’s desk shattered. Montague jumped down from his chair, cowering behind his desk as pieces of glass flew across the front of the room. Eleanor was breathing heavy, trying to remember everything Sirius and Lupin had taught her about control, but she felt herself fading into her anger. It would feel so nice to watch the bitch burn.

Fred’s hand found its way into Eleanor’s. She turned to look at him and felt the rage in her body receding as he smiled encouragingly at her. He squeezed her fingers gently, swiping his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand.

“It’s a shame your parents didn’t teach you better manners,” Fred said suddenly, tearing his gaze from Eleanor, “or apparently how to dress. Merlin, that is the ugliest shade of pink I have ever seen.”

“ _Mr. Weasley_ -”

“It’s a right shame your parents met at all. It would have been a more pleasant world for us all if they’d never shagged. I bet your mother agrees too, I can’t imagine going through the pain of labor to only get a toad at the end.”

“DETENTION!” Umbridge shrieked.

Fred raised his eyebrows as though to say _is that the worst you’ve got?_

Umbridge took a minute to compose herself as the students around the classroom smirked to one another. She closed her eyes, turning toward the board and breathing slowly. When she finally turned back to face the class, she was smiling sinisterly.

“Mr. Weasley, you will meet me in my office next Monday evening at five for detention. I will not tolerate language of that kind in my classroom. Nor will I tolerate the use of magic to break my personal belongings. Ms. Potter consider this your first, and only, warning. Speak out of turn again, and you will be joining Mr. Weasley in detention.”

_Shit, she thinks Fred broke the mug._

"Professor-” Eleanor started, but Fred quickly cut her off.

“Can’t wait,” he said with a wink.

The sound of students filling the hallway ended the awkward confrontation. The class looked between each other, wondering if they dared to begin packing up without Umbridge’s instruction.

"Your homework for the week,” Umbridge’s sickly sweet voice was back in full swing, “will be to write a-foot-long essay on the importance of studying the theoretical framework of defensive magic. You are dismissed.”

Everyone seemed to be in a rush to leave. No one wanted to be left alone in the classroom with Umbridge, and Eleanor strongly agreed with that train of thought. She threw her textbook in her bag, dragging Fred and George through the door without waiting for the rest of their friends.

“Shit Fred, she thinks you blew up her stupid mug, I’m really sorry-”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively, “that bitch has it out for you, I can take one-”

“Potter!”

Eleanor stopped, turning to see Montague jogging to where she stood with George and Fred. She rolled her eyes, grabbing ahold of Fred’s upper arm to walk away.

“You should watch your tongue,” Montague hissed when he caught up to them, “she can take away your title if she likes.”

“First of all,” Eleanor didn’t spare Montague a glance as she continued to walk toward the dining hall for dinner, “I don’t care if she takes away my _title._ It would help lessen the burden of work I have to do this year. Secondly, she’s just a professor, she doesn’t have the authority to strip the Heads of their titles.”

“She’s a professor who is being backed by the Ministry of Magic,” Montague retorted. “She reports directly to Fudge. If you genuinely believe she merely holds the authority of an average professor, you’re a hell of a lot stupider than I thought you were.”

“Eleanor is not stupid,” Fred spat.

“I think she will have the power to do whatever the ministry desires soon enough and I’m pretty sure their list includes discrediting you and your brother,” Montague ignored Fred, looking only at Eleanor as he spoke. “I’m looking out for you Potter. We have a game to plan. You need to watch yourself.”

“Isabella-”

“Isabella comes from an important pureblooded family. Umbridge will never touch her and she knows it. She can stand up and say whatever she wants because she holds power and _money_. You’re not Isabella.”

He had a point, although she wasn’t going to admit it. She shot him a look of acknowledgement as they made their way into the crowded dining hall. Isabella sat at the Slytherin table, ignoring the stares of their fellow classmates. The story of what had occurred in their defense against the dark arts class was spreading like wildfire.

“Ok, whatever,” Eleanor said, moving toward the Gryffindor table.

“And Potter,” Montague called over the hum of talk throughout the hall, “meet me in the library this Saturday at noon so we can sort everything out for Assassins.”

Without waiting for her to reply, he pushed his way to the Slytherin table to sit across from Isabella. Eleanor sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she would be forced to spend her weekend in Montague’s company before following Fred and George to the table. After about a minute, the rest of their friends joined them, talking excitedly about what they had just witnessed.

“I’m shocked that you didn’t get detention,” Angelina said to Eleanor as she scooped potatoes onto her plate.

“I’m more shocked that Isabella didn’t get detention,” Iris said, “I mean she got up and left. She dropped the class, just like that.”

“And the things she was saying,” Lee laughed, “gosh I wish she would go off on Snape like that.”

“Her mother ranks pretty high in the ministry,” Alfie said quietly, turning his head to glance quickly at Isabella. “Umbridge is probably scared of her.”

“But certainly she must be worried that her mother will get in trouble for that outbur-”

“Does Montague like you?” Fred cut across Alicia’s sentence and all heads turned to stare at Fred and Eleanor.

“What?”

“Does he have a thing for you?”

“Oh, no, definitely not.”

“He acts like he’s saving you or some shit. Finding you after class to make sure you don’t lose your title. And didn’t you say he lied to Dumbledore for you?”

“I can assure you, he has absolutely no feelings for me.”

“Well, he seems hell bent on making sure he gets to spend time with you planning this game,” Fred grumbled.

Eleanor furrowed her brow, watching as Fred pushed his food around on his plate without eating. He was acting as though he were… _jealous._

“I- I know he’s into someone else,” Eleanor looked down at her food as she said it, hoping not to give anything away.

“Who?”

“Isabella.”

“Isabella surely didn’t think so last year.”

“Oh really? Did she tell you that when you were fucking her last October?”

Eleanor regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. It was none of her business who Fred slept with. Yet, bitterness was filling her heart, pumping through her veins and intoxicating her brain.

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” Fred shot back. Their friends were glancing uncomfortably at one another, watching Fred and Eleanor argue as if it were a bad broomstick accident.

“A lot can change in a year,” Eleanor said.

_Just completely ignore what you said, that’ll work._

“Besides, even if somehow, he was interested in me, I find him absolutely repulsive. I may not be entitled to a lot better, but I definitely deserve someone better than him.”

Fred stared at her, his face unreadable. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“You deserve the best,” he said quietly, “I hope you know that.”

Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. Was Fred jealous that Montague was spending time with Eleanor because he wanted to be the one spending that time with her? Or was he just irritated that he thought Eleanor would enjoy the company of someone he despised so strongly? Was he a protective friend or did he want more? No, he couldn’t want more. She knew that for a fact.

“So, Umbridge’s class is going to suck this year,” Alfie said, finally breaking the awkward silence that had encompassed the table. “Guess we will be even less prepared for you-know-who than we thought.” 

The rest of dinner consisted of more conversations surrounding Umbridge’s class. Lee was proposing his usual ludicrous prank ideas as George adjusted them to make them more plausible. Angelina was begging everyone to hold off on such action. It would be her first and only year as Gryffindor team captain and she wanted a win. Half the team getting detention every week would put quite the damper on their odds.

Eleanor found herself too distracted by her argument with Fred to contribute to the conversation. She had pushed all of Fred’s many hookups to the back of her mind, but they were cropping up again. She pushed her food around on her plate, unable to take another bite. She was sure she would be hungry later that night, but at the moment the thought of putting any more food in her mouth made her nauseous.

_Angelina, Isabella, Katie, Iris, Olivia…_

They decided to study in the common room after dinner. Seventh year was proving to be more difficult than any year prior and they all had a great deal of homework. Well, all except Fred and George, who were only taking three classes, one of which being care of magical creatures with Hagrid, who never assigned a great deal of work.

Eleanor sat with Alfie and Alicia working on the essay Snape had assigned them for Potions. They were currently on healing elixirs, which would consume most of the coming month. This essay regarded potential potions that could be used to cure frostbite. It was proving quite difficult to find multiple potions that could be used in this situation, as their textbook only listed one. Snape had informed them that there were five main potions he would be looking for in their essays. Alicia and Alfie were poring through library books looking for the rest while Eleanor organized notes on the ones they had already discovered. They still needed two more.

Fred, George and Lee were next to them, testing their Skiving Snackboxes on a line of eager recruits. It was a pleasant distraction from the boring work Eleanor was doing. She’d put her quill down to watch the students faint in turn. She’d snort, catching Fred’s eye for a second, only to experience that same sinking feeling from earlier.

_Angelina, Isabella, Katie, Iris, Olivia…_

She added a note on the outline Alicia had made for them-

_‘Alcadeo’s Elixir, otherwise known as the Elixir of Hellfire, was named after its maker, Idris Alcadeo. Its medical abilities include curing frostbite and hypothermia, although it must be consumed in precisely the correct dosage. Drinking a drop too much may lead to the patient’s extremities catching fire and burning off.’_

“How do you feel?” Fred asked a first year kindly after they were roused with the antidote.

_And who was that Ravenclaw girl he shagged in the library? Ava?_

“Well, you’re a trooper kid. The first time I fainted from one of these I just about puked all over myself. You’re much stronger than I am it seems,” he patted the first year on the back, winking at Eleanor when he caught her staring.

_No, not Ava, that was Amelia._

“No, you have to stop this now!”

Eleanor looked away from the spectacle the twins were making to see Hermione marching over to where they sat. Eleanor snickered, raising her eyebrows at the twins. This would be entertaining.

“You can’t do this!” Hermione continued, “this isn’t ethical!”

“They’re paying them,” Eleanor shrugged, “I made sure they all signed waivers. They know what they signed up for.”

Hermione looked toward Eleanor. It was obvious she had hoped Eleanor wouldn’t get involved.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re minors! You can’t be using children as your test subjects!”

“And what exactly are you going to do about it?” Fred shot back.

“Give us detention?” George said, feigning a whimper of fear.

“No, but I’ll tell your mother.”

Fred and George looked taken aback, but the resentment that had been boiling in Eleanor spilled over at Hermione’s words. She could hear Umbridge’s taunts, could visualize Fred and Angelina dancing at the Yule Ball, could hear the frightened voices of her parents…

“You’re going to tell their mommy?” Eleanor said with a sharp laugh.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably before responding, “Yes, I will because-”

“Do you think you outrank me, Hermione?” Eleanor was shooting daggers in Hermione’s direction. “You see, I’m quite aware of the moral superiority complex you possess, but unfortunately in this matter you don’t have the authority. I am Head Girl, and I don’t have a problem with this as long as their participants are paid and know what’s going to happen. Do you really think I’m so incompetent that I would allow children to be physically harmed while I’m sitting right next to them?”

“I- No, no I wasn’t-”

“Because let me make on thing very clear Hermione; you are not better than me. You aren’t better than Fred and George, and you certainly aren’t better than Harry. I’m going to need you to climb off your high horse and realize that. And if you do write to their mother, I’ll make sure you lose your Prefect title.”

Hermione stared, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

“The minute I heard you were handed that stupid Prefect badge I knew this year would be awful. You're just too uptight. Nothing can be fun if you’re around. I mean does anyone here really want Hermione Granger of all people telling us what we can and can’t do?”

Some people were laughing; others nodding at Eleanor’s words. Lavender and Parvati were so giddy, they were jumping around in their seats at the scene Eleanor was making.

“That’s what I thought.” Eleanor turned her back on Hermione and returned to her note taking. She faintly heard Hermione running up the stairs to her dormitory.

“What the fuck was that about?” Angelina asked, staring at Eleanor in disbelief.

“What?”

“Look, we all get it. It’s been a rough few days here. No one’s been particularly nice to you or Harry, so you’re angry. We respect that but,” Angelina looked around at the rest of their friends, “you shouldn’t be humiliating people who are on your side.”

“But she was yelling at Fred and-”

“Yeah, and what they’re doing is kind of stupid,” Alicia said without looking up at Eleanor.

“I don’t know guys, who cares. Hermione can be kind of annoying…” Iris said.

“It’s just rude. She knows Hermione! She didn’t have to yell at her in front of the entire common room and point out all her insecurities. You should go apologize,” Angelina finished her statement with an uneasy look at Eleanor.

Eleanor scoffed, turning to Fred and George for support. She was surprised to see that both of them were avoiding her gaze, shifting where they stood.

“I don’t know Ella, I think you crossed a line,” Fred said, “I mean, I’m glad you told her to leave us alone and all, but you could have done that without-”

“Of course, you agree with her!” Eleanor yelled pointing at Angelina, causing the whole room to look in their direction once more.

“What? Come off it, I’m not mad at you. None of us are upset with you, we get it. It’s just misplaced anger but she didn’t deserve-”

“Whatever Fred, next time I’ll let her write to your mum so you can get a howler.”

Eleanor stood up abruptly, letting the notes fall from her lap. She reached into her bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Eleanor, wait-” Alfie called, but she was already halfway out the portrait hole. She walked through the school, pushing through groups of students making their way back to their common rooms. She walked out of the castle through the great, wooden doors, moving toward the covered bridge on the perimeter of the grounds. At last, she found her destination, leaning back against the wooden bridge and lighting a cigarette with her wand.

She knew she was wrong. What she said to Hermione wasn’t okay. Her friends were right, and it was because they were her friends that they told her she was wrong. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be around them right about now. She wanted to be nothing at all.

_“Ella, daddy loves you very much but you have to go with mommy right now.”_

Hermione wasn’t even that annoying. There was no reason to invite the entire common room into making fun of her.

_“Not without you!”_

She should apologize, but not tonight. Tonight, she didn’t think she’d go back to the common room until she smoked every last cigarette in the carton. She wondered what would happen if a lit cigarette fell from her hand. Would the bridge catch fire? If the bridge caught fire, how long would it take to break apart, allowing her to fall in into the woods below. She wouldn’t have to apologize for being a massive asshole then.

_Angelina, Isabella, Iris, Katie, Olivia, Amelia, Angelina, Angelina, Angelina._

She wondered if the fire would kill her before the fall would.

_“Ella, go now- WAIT, ELLA! Go in here, go in the closest, stay really quiet.”_

She wondered which would hurt more. Probably the fire. Although it hadn’t hurt that bad when she almost incinerated herself during the summer holiday.

_“Don’t leave the closet, not unless mommy or daddy tell you to. Don’t make a sound.”_

If she died, what would happen next. Was there an afterlife? Would she get to see them again? Who would really miss her here?

_“Daddy loves you Ella. So, so much.”_

She exhaled the smoke from her lungs. Maybe smoking would kill her, but that would take so much more time.

_“I’ll see you again. I promise.”_


	16. Fight Club

Eleanor began smoking when she was fifteen. She started off as a social smoker, only ever smoking at parties or with the twins late at night. It didn’t feel like a big deal then. Everyone but Alfie smoked from time to time.

It was during her sixth year that it became a greater issue. Smoking without company was a cry for help.

Fred and George had been distant since the Quidditch World Cup. She was holding two big secrets from Fred at that time. One being her own, of which she would have loved to tell him if she could guarantee her feelings were reciprocated. The second was George’s, another she wished Fred knew but it was not hers to share. She was determined never to allow either of those secrets to build a wedge between them. But Fred had a secret of his own and he didn’t seem to care that his was creating a fracture in their friendship. It stung worse than she liked to admit.

She wracked her brain, reflecting back on the Quidditch World Cup, trying to come up with an explanation as to why the twins were acting so withdrawn. She couldn’t think of anything she had done that night. In fact, she had hoped that night had pushed her one step closer to being honest with Fred about her feelings. It had been a good night. Well, except for the Death Eaters, of course.

Since returning to the Burrow, she had become the odd man out in their triad. She often found them huddled together, whispering in serious tones over fresh parchment. When she approached them, they’d immediately stop talking, hiding whatever they were working on. The first time she asked them what they were going on about, they brushed it off with a joke. The second time she asked, they told her they didn’t know what she was talking about. The next few times were the same, although they both seemed to become more aggravated with every mention of it. She felt annoying, and she had never thought the twins would be the ones to make her feel so unwelcome. It made her feel a little better to see they treated Lee the same way once they returned to school, but she had thought she ranked higher than that to them.

She found herself spending more time with Harry and Ron than usual. Fred and George sought her out when they wanted to spend time with her, but those times were becoming fewer. When they did hang out, all appeared normal, but then they would go and spend a whole day out of sight. She was going over their every interaction in her head, wondering what small thing she must be doing to piss them off. She felt like a fraction of herself without them, which was an issue in itself. Could Eleanor Potter only be Eleanor Potter with Fred and George Weasley? Fred and George seemed complete without her, but she was empty. Had she fixed herself with their friendship to such an extent that she wasn’t sure who she was without them? Was it normal to feel so broken up at any slight change in the way their friendship worked?

Ron told her not to worry about it. He was the only one she trusted with these thoughts. They weren’t telling him what they were up to either, although that wasn’t surprising. He would have been one of the last people they told. She’d run over things she had said and done with Ron, and he couldn’t find a flaw. His advice was to ignore them until they told her what they were up to. She thought it was a good strategy, and truly did want to follow through with it, but she just couldn’t. Every time the twins came around, no matter how many days they had gone treating her like an outsider, she jumped at the opportunity to talk to them.

It was mid-October when everything finally came to a head. The school was abuzz with excitement as the start of the Triwizard Tournament grew nearer, especially for those in their sixth and seventh year. Everyone was trying to determine who the Hogwarts Champion would be, and how the Champion would be chosen. The way in which the champion was to be picked was a topic of great interest because it would be the determining factor in whether or not underage wizards would attempt to enter themselves into the tournament.

George, Fred, and Eleanor sat in the back corner of the library, flipping through books on the magical ways of aging.

“Everything in here is about reversing the effects of aging,” Eleanor sighed, pushing the book she had been browsing through to the reject pile, “I couldn’t find anything on speeding it up.”

“Well, keep looking then,” Fred persisted, thrusting a new book into Eleanor’s hands.

“So, Angelina is the only one of us who’s already seventeen, right?” George asked.

“Yeah, and personally I think she has a better chance of being chosen champion than any of the Gryffindors in the year above us,” Fred said absentmindedly, “come to think of it, none of the current seventh years are truly that impressive.”

Eleanor felt her heart sink a little at the compliment Fred gave Angelina. Sometimes, she really hated herself.

“Oh, I think Angelina is the best choice for Champion!” Eleanor said with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Montague’s seventeen too,” George pointed out, “and he’s a Prefect. He might have a better shot.”

“Ugh, don’t say that,” Fred moaned.

“What?” The tips of George’s ears burned pink.

“He’s a Prefect, but he won’t be a champion. Please don’t put that out into the universe, I wouldn’t be able to handle him as Champion. I’d have to root for one of the other schools,” Fred said.

Eleanor laughed, although she stopped abruptly when she saw the look on George’s face. She cleared her throat, thinking of a change in subject.

“Cedric’s seventeen I think,” Eleanor mentioned, “he’s also a Prefect so he probably has just as good of a chance as Montague does.”

“He’s a Hufflepuff,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“What does that mean?” Eleanor asked in a tone of surprise.

“He was sorted into Hufflepuff. At least with a Slytherin champion we know they’d be competition because they’re ambitious and all, but a Hufflepuff? _Loyalty and the power of friendship will blow away the competition!”_ Fred mimicked in a high pitched voice.

“You’re being an ass,” Eleanor frowned, “Hufflepuffs are just as powerful as the rest of us. I mean, loyalty isn’t a bad trait to value.”

“I’d rather see Montague as Champion than Cedric,” Fred slammed the book he had been flipping through shut.

“What? You’re joking,” Eleanor laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement, “you hate Montague.”

“I’m sure you’d be happy with Cedric as champion,” Fred picked up another book from the pile, refusing to look at her as he spoke, “I bet that would bring the two of you back together.”

“I don’t want to get back together with Cedric,” Eleanor’s face flushed red, “you know that. We didn’t work, we had nothing in common. I- I don’t get why you don’t like him. He’s a nice guy, honestly-”

“You would know,” Fred murmured, his face buried in the book he was looking through.

“He is! But that doesn’t mean I want to date him!”

“I really don’t care who you do and don’t date.”

That hurt.

“Eleanor, we’re forgetting you!” George exclaimed, breaking the tension that had formed between Fred and Eleanor.

“Huh?”

“The sign they posted said the other schools are arriving on October 30th. I can’t see them somehow choosing a champion in one day. You’ll be seventeen November 1st. You’ll probably get to enter.”

“I… yeah, maybe.”

“What do you mean _maybe_?” Fred asked, finally looking at Eleanor again.

“We don’t know exactly when they’ll decide champions. Maybe they’ll decide right when they get here.”

“And you wouldn’t fight that?” George asked incredulously. “You’d be one day off of being seventeen and you wouldn’t demand entry.”

“They can’t make an exception for me,” Eleanor said, “if they make an exception for me, everyone else who turns seventeen in November will try to enter too.”

“But you’d be chosen,” Fred said thunderstruck, “if you entered, you would win the whole thing. We all know it.”

“We don’t know that,” Eleanor said, but she appreciated the compliment all the same.

“They make exceptions for you all the time! You got to stay here growing up when they should have shipped you off to an orphanage. They made you Prefect even though you’re in detention weekly. They let you do whatever you want!” Fred exclaimed.

“That’s not true.”

Anger was pounding through Eleanor’s body. He had hit upon one of her insecurities, and she thought he knew better. Maybe that was before whatever secret he was hiding.

“But it is to some extent-”

“Why have you been acting like such an asshole lately! You don’t think I know that I shouldn’t have been made Prefect? Because I’m aware, thank you very much. I don’t need my so-called best friend reminding me. And I don’t need you telling me how privileged I am. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want to enter this stupid tournament?”

“I’m not being an ass- what do you mean you don’t want to enter the tournament?” Fred’s voice was rising.

“It seems like a lot of work. It isn’t worth it to me,” she said simply.

Maybe if things had been normal, she would have told him the truth. Maybe she would have told him she was scared to show off her abilities in such a public way. A way that could get back to the multitude of Death Eaters who were waiting quietly in the wings for their masters return. A way that could somehow find an audience in Voldemort, marking her even more so for an untimely death.

And what if she died? Of course, she was pretty sure no one would die in the tournament this year; Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it. But what if something went wrong? She wouldn’t be there when Voldemort rose to power again. She wanted to die for something more than a stupid trophy. She knew she was supposed to die at precisely the right moment.

“Of course,” Fred scoffed, “typical.”

“Excuse me?”

“Of course, you would be the only one to think that a thousand galleons isn’t worth fighting for.”

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to slap him around the head so hard she’d leave a mark.

“Oh, fuck you Fred. Not everything is about money.”

“Only people with money say that.”

“I would give every galleon I own for my parents to be alive. Don’t talk to me about the money I inherited because my parents died. You can have it for all I care, I don’t give a fuck.”

“I don’t want your money-”

“You say that, but then every time you get upset with me, you have to bring it back to money. I don’t know what you want me to do. Do you want me to give it all away? Would it make you happy if I burned my whole Gringotts vault to the ground?”

“I want you to admit the privilege you have!” Fred yelled.

“I have always admitted that! But you can’t admit the things _you_ have! You don’t think it hurts me sometimes to see your happy, loving family all together? All alive? But I know it isn’t your fault that my parents died so I don’t try to make you feel like shit about something you can’t fix.”

Fred didn’t say anything, he just shook his head slightly and returned to his book.

“I don’t know why I even bothered coming with you two today. I’m surprised that you haven’t kicked me out yet to whisper about whatever bullshit you don’t want me to know about. By the way, I meant what I said, you’ve been acting like an asshole and I can’t figure out what I did to make you decide you can’t trust me-”

“Merlin, not everything is about you, Eleanor!” Fred snapped, slamming his book on the table once more. The act made Eleanor jump. “Not everything we do revolves around you! Sometimes, it’s okay to have time away from each other. We don’t need to spend every second of every day together!”

“I didn’t say we had to!”

“No, you didn’t, but apparently I can’t keep one thing from you without you taking it personally. What George and I are doing has nothing to do with you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Whatever. I just want to help you-”

“And I don’t want your help all the time! I don’t want you to fix everything for us! Sometimes I want to do something for myself without you sticking your nose in to try and make it all better.”

“I don’t-”

“Our second year, we made the quidditch team, but mum and dad didn’t have enough money to buy us both broomsticks. We thought we would have to step down when suddenly, there’s this contest you’ve found in the _Daily Prophet_. Enter your name, and you could win two Cleansweeps! Perfect timing, don’t you think? And then we get this letter, a little unprofessional looking for the _Daily Prophet_ but who cares because we won! And we got two new broomsticks! I thought, wow, sometimes life really does work out!”

“Then in third year, I ripped my robes right across the front and had to borrow Bill’s old ones, but they didn’t fit. All of a sudden, I find ten galleons in the common room left right where I usually sit. You say it’s a sign to buy new robes, so I do it. You say not to worry about who lost it, finders, keepers and whatnot.”

“Then in fourth year, Ron breaks Charlie’s old wand. Mum and dad refuse to buy him a new one, but you tell him there’s a shop in Hogsmeade that’ll let you swap a broken wand with a brand new one for free. He believes you, just like I had.”

“Okay, I get it. You don’t have to go on,” Eleanor said quietly.

“I don’t want your pity and I don’t want your money,” Fred said sternly, “we’re your friends, not your charity case. I don’t want you to ‘fix’ this for us. We have to do this one by ourselves, and for real this time.”

“Got it.”

“We aren’t ungrateful for all you’ve done for us,” George added quietly, “and we aren’t mad at you. It was kind of you, I just- it’s kind of embarrassing. It’s hard for you to understand because you… you have money.”

Eleanor didn’t know what to say. She felt like anything she said would be the wrong thing to say, and Fred would jump down her throat again. She decided she liked it better when he was avoiding her.

“Look Eleanor-” Fred began, but she didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Nope, I’ve got it Fred. We don’t have to do everything together; we don’t have to tell each other everything. I was looking through these books to help you two enter the tournament, but I don’t think you need me. You have made it perfectly clear that you can solve your own problems. I need a smoke anyway.”

“Ella-”

“Don’t call me that!”

Fred looked taken aback. He was the only one she let call her Ella. Her parents called her Ella. It was special.

“There is far too much yelling coming from this corner!” Madam Pince appeared from behind the bookshelves, looking positively annoyed. Her expression softened slightly at the sight of Eleanor. “Oh, it’s you dear…”

“Sorry, Madam Pince. Don’t worry, I’m leaving. I don’t want to disturb the peace.” The last thing Eleanor wanted right now was for Madam Pince to prove Fred’s point and let her off the hook for yelling in the library.

She stood up, throwing her bag over her shoulder. George opened his mouth to say something, but Eleanor had already turned, pushing gently past Madam Pince to leave. The heads of other students turned to watch her as she left, and she wondered how loudly she and Fred had been yelling at each other. How many people heard exactly what Fred had said?

When she made it to the solitude of the corridor, she fished around her bag for a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t normally carry them around in her school bag, but she hoped she might have thrown a pack in haphazardly. Finding nothing, she resigned herself to going back to the dormitory to grab a pack. She hoped the twins would stay in the library long enough for her to sneak up to her room, grab some cigarettes, and head outside without accidentally bumping into them.

She knew she was privileged; Fred didn’t have to tell her that much. The professors had a soft spot for her. They’d known her longer than they’d known any other student and she had shared a great deal of time with them all one-on-one. Sometimes they turned the other way when she snuck out at night or was late to class. They were lenient with her, but it wasn’t worth the price she paid for it.

She gained that particular privilege because her parents died. She’d give it all away if it meant her parents could still be there. She didn’t mind having detention, she didn’t mind points being taken from Gryffindor, she didn’t mind losing her prefect title. None of it was worth what it cost her. She’d take her parents any day.

The money thing was different. The Potters were a wealthy family, not nearly as wealthy as the Malfoys, but wealthy all the same. Her parents dying hadn’t made it so that she suddenly had more money than the Weasleys, that had been predetermined. However, it did make it so that she had more money all to herself than most children her age were to expect. Then of course, Sirius had made her the beneficiary of the black fortune the minute she was born. When he went to Azkaban, she had inherited that as well. In all honesty, she had so much money she couldn’t even come up with ways to spend it all. She didn’t think it was fair that her and Harry had such a large fortune when families like the Weasleys were barely scraping by. She wanted to give it all to them, she’d know they’d do right by her with it, but they would never accept her offering.

So, she found ways to force the money on them. She bought Fred and George brooms when they needed them. She bought them nice robes. She bought Ron a new wand. She was going to buy him a new pet after the whole thing with Scabbers/Peter, but Sirius took care of that before she had a chance. She did all that without any of them knowing. Or so she had thought.

She had been trying to fix her guilt by spending as much money as she could on the family that saved her, but apparently that had only made things worse. She didn’t know how she would face Fred and George again now that they had told her the truth. She’d fought with them before, but never like this. This was different. This was serious.

Eleanor made her way through the portrait hole and into the busy common room. She saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione seated at a corner table, working on homework. She wondered if they ever fought the way the twins and her just had.

She was halfway up the girl’s dormitory staircase when she heard yelling. She paused, realizing she recognized the voice. It was Angelina.

_What the hell is in the air today?_

She pushed open the door of her dormitory to see Angelina standing in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her face. Alicia was seated on her bed, a muggle book in her hands but she wasn’t looking at it. Her eyes were on Angelina, and she appeared agitated. Iris was leaning against Alicia’s bedpost, her face unfazed. Katie Bell was standing opposite of Angelina, her fists balled and her face red from yelling. Eleanor felt as though she had left one tension filled situation only to walk straight into another.

“Er, is everything okay?” Eleanor asked.

“No, it’s not!” Angelina yelled, her face twisted in a mixture of fury and tears.

“It’s stupid,” Iris said absentmindedly, looking at her nails.

“It isn’t stupid!” Angelina shot back.

“It kind of is Ang,” Alicia said gently.

“What are you all going on about?” Eleanor didn’t know if she actually wanted to know, but she knew she would find out soon enough anyway.

“Angelina’s mad because she found out Katie’s been sleeping with Fred,” Iris shrugged, “and she won’t look at me because I fucked him one-time last year at some stupid Ravenclaw party.”

“You knew I was sleeping with him!” Angelina turned on Iris, but Iris still seemed unconcerned.

“Yeah, but you weren’t dating him. You still aren’t dating him. He’s slept with like half our year, so like, who cares. It didn’t even mean anything.” Iris settled herself next to Alicia.

This was information Eleanor did not want to hear. She thought she might puke. Sickening images of Fred intertwined with her friends flashed across her mind’s eye. Her heart broke.

“But you know I care about him!” Angelina was still yelling. Eleanor wished she would quiet down before anyone else heard her.

“He isn’t going to date you,” Eleanor said suddenly, surprising even herself. “I mean, if he’s sleeping with Katie, and he’s slept with Iris, then he probably isn’t looking to… I don’t know, date?”

“Exactly my point,” Iris said, nodding in Eleanor’s direction, “thank you.”

Eleanor didn’t know if she had said it because she wanted it to be true or because she knew it to be true. What she did know was that if she could hardly handle Fred’s casual hookups, she definitely couldn’t handle him dating one of her best friends.

“And more importantly,” Alicia added sternly, “why would you even want to date Fred when he’s been sleeping around on you?”

_That was a good question, why did any of them want Fred? Why did she?_

“You don’t know him the way I do!” Angelina yelled, tears streaming harder down her pretty face.

“I don’t know him the way you do?” Eleanor was angry now, but she didn’t feel like she had a right to be. She wasn’t Fred’s keeper. She needed to stop acting like it.

“Well, maybe you do-”

“I reckon I know him a lot better than you do. He’s a whore, Angelina. I caught him with Amelia Portridge last month. In the library. During normal hours. When anyone could have walked in on them. He doesn’t care about you the way you care about him.”

She was being harsh now. She wanted Angelina to hurt the way she hurt.

“And he’s been fucking Olivia,” Katie said, “so I don’t know why you decided to start a screaming match with _me_. Who I sleep with is my business, not yours Angelina.”

“It is my business when it’s someone I obviously care about!”

“Has he ever said he wanted more?” Katie asked. “Has he ever told you he wanted to be exclusive?”

Angelina bit her lip and Eleanor felt her heart break again, this time for Angelina. She could see how much Angelina truly cared for Fred. 

“No, he hasn’t,” Angelina admitted, “but that doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind.”

“You can’t change him,” Alicia said, more gently now, “if he wanted to be with you, he would be.”

_If he wanted to be with you, he would be._

“I just…” Angelina stammered, her voice breaking, “I don’t want my own friends sleeping with the boy I like! Is it that hard to understand?”

No, it was perfectly understandable. Eleanor understood better than anyone, but she couldn’t tell Angelina that. So, she nodded at Angelina, hoping to convey through her eyes that she understood her predicament.

“I wasn’t planning on it ever happening again,” Iris shrugged, “it was a one-time thing. I didn’t even know you liked him at the time.”

“Even if I were to stop hanging out with Fred,” Katie said, “he would just find someone else. I don’t get the big deal, you two aren’t exclusive!”

Katie didn’t get it, but Eleanor did. It would hurt Angelina less if it were someone she didn’t care about. Angelina probably didn’t want to feel jealous of Katie. Angelina probably hated herself a little bit for all the horrible things she was thinking about her friends. It would have been so nice to talk to Angelina about everything, but they couldn’t talk about the same boy like this. Especially when Angelina had such a leg up on Eleanor.

“You don’t get it! None of you get it!” Angelina said exasperatedly.

“I understand how you feel, Ang,” Alicia said, “but you should really let him go. He’s fucking with your head. He isn’t going to change for you, he’s already proven that.”

Angelina didn’t say anything. She moved to her bed, collecting some of her things. Alicia and Eleanor shared an uneasy glance. They’d never seen Angelina this upset. She was always the life of the party, the most fun to be around. Fred had truly broken her.

“No, you just… you don’t understand.”

Angelina gathered herself and grabbed a towel, walking to the showers without a backward glance. Katie rolled her eyes and pushed past Eleanor down the dormitory stairs.

“Well, that was fun,” Eleanor said once both girls had left, “and to think all I wanted was a smoke.”

“I didn’t know she liked him so much,” Iris muttered, her façade of ease dropping, “I wouldn’t have slept with him if I’d known. I’m not… I’m not a slut.”

“Oh, Iris don’t worry about that,” Alicia said frowning, “none of you are sluts. Not you, not Katie, not Angelina.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement, walking to her bedstand. She opened the top drawer only to discover she had run through her last pack of cigarettes. She moaned, slamming her hand against the top of the drawer.

“Do either of you have any extra cigs?”

“I do,” Iris said, popping up from Alicia’s bed and tossing through her trunk until she came across an unopened pack. She tossed them to Eleanor.

“Thanks, I’ll be back, hopefully once everyone’s already gone to sleep.”

“You’ve been smoking a lot lately,” Alicia noted.

“I guess it’s stress,” Eleanor said with a shrug, “had another row with Fred. It was… bad.”

“Ah, Fred. It always comes back to Fred.” Alicia frowned again, looking up to study Eleanor’s expression.

“Yeah… well thanks again Ire,” Eleanor motioned toward the carton of cigarettes in her hand before heading back out the door.

When she reached the common room, she saw Katie sitting with Olivia and some of the other fifth year Gryffindors, looking cross. She wondered how long it would take for Angelina and Katie to get back on good terms.

She couldn’t help but think about how angry she was with Fred. She couldn’t escape him. Even when she was with her friends in her dormitory, Fred lingered. Why couldn’t he keep it in his goddamn pants? Why did he have to fuck everyone who would let him?

Eleanor made her way to the lake, watching the sun set behind the trees. It was cold with the sun gone, especially with the chill coming off the water. She wished she could go back inside and enjoy the warmth of the common room fire, but she wouldn’t risk running into Fred. She was angrier with him than she had been before. She was angry that he was the reason her friends were fighting. She was angry that he was interested in everyone but her. She was angry that he had been so harsh with her earlier. She was angry that she wasn’t as special to him as he was to her. But most importantly, she was angry with herself for ever loving him in the first place.

_If he wanted to be with you, he would be._

It was a cloudless night, and the moon was new, allowing the stars to shine without competition. The glow coming from the castle windows dimmed as people went to bed, extinguishing the candles in their rooms. The rustling of the leaves in the wind was covering up the sounds of whatever creatures were stirring about in the Forbidden Forest.

_You should really let him go. He’s fucking with your head. He isn’t going to change for you, he’s already proven that._

She could never let him go, not really. But could she hold onto him when he so obviously didn’t want her the way she wanted him? She had to let go of the hope she held for their future, if not for herself than for him. He didn’t deserve to be punished by her for not returning her feelings.

“Ella?”

She closed her eyes. He couldn’t be here right now; she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She’d explode.

“It’s freezing, we should go back inside. Angelina said you’d gone out for a smoke, but I thought she was lying. It’s too cold.”

_Angelina._

She exhaled the smoke she had been holding in her lungs. Of course, he’d been to see Angelina, and of course, she’d been pathetic enough to see him after everything that had gone down.

“Those things will kill you,” Fred joked, moving to stand next to her.

Eleanor continued to stare off into the distance toward the mountains. She brought the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.

“Ella, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been so off lately; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re right, I’ve been an asshole and you’re the last person I want to hurt-”

“You’re apologizing to the wrong person,” she spat, her anger rising once more.

Her friend’s voices were ringing in her head, recounting Fred’s many crimes. She could hear Angelina crying.

_Katie’s been sleeping with Fred._

_And he’s been fucking Olivia._

_It always comes back to Fred._

“What are you talking about?”

“You should go find Angelina and give her this speech. I don’t need to hear it.” Eleanor snuffed her cigarette out on her leg, singing her skin.

“Why would I need to-”

“I don’t know, you tell me Fred. You gave me so much shit last year for dating Cedric but _you’re_ the one whipping your dick out at every opportunity. Did you ever stop to think how’d that make any of those girls feel?”

_How it would make me feel?_

“And now, I have to deal with our friends fighting over you. I’m out here, waiting for them to fall asleep so I don’t have to deal with the problems you’ve caused!”

Eleanor threw her cigarette on the ground and turned to head back to the castle, leaving Fred stricken. She tried not to care, someone needed to be the one to say it.

When she made it back to the Gryffindor common room, she saw George sitting with Lee and Angelina at a table in the back. He looked hopefully up at Eleanor as she entered, but his face dropped when he saw the expression she was wearing. He must have been hoping that Fred would come back hand in hand with Eleanor, laughing away at their previous argument. She felt a pang of regret, if only for letting George down.

She climbed the stairs to her dormitory, hoping for the sweet release of sleep. Alicia and Iris were already in bed, their hangings drawn. She changed into one of Mrs. Weasley’s hand-knitted sweaters and climbed into bed.

_If he wanted to be with you, he would be._

She’d regret yelling at him in the morning, even though she was in the right. The problem was, she hadn’t told him off out of concern for Angelina. She told him off because she wanted him for herself. She was the pathetic one, not Angelina.

She pushed her covers off, swinging her legs off the side of her bed. Tiptoeing, she walked over to Alicia’s bed.

“Alicia?” Eleanor whispered, pushing back the hangings around Alicia’s bed slightly.

“What?” Alicia whispered back, albeit groggily.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Eleanor asked, embarrassed.

Alicia opened her eyes, confusion set across her face. After a moment, she nodded, pulling back the covers so Eleanor could climb into bed.

“Are you okay?”

"Yeah, I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Eleanor said, settling herself in.

Alicia closed her eyes, turning her back on Eleanor. Eleanor smiled at the back of Alicia’s head, grateful that even if Fred and George left her, she never would.

“Eleanor?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not blind, I know why you’re here. I may hate him right now, because of what he’s doing to everyone but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you care about him so much. He cares about you too, I think. More so than he does her at least.”

And with that, they drifted to sleep, Eleanor pondering Alicia’s words over and over again in her head.


	17. A Nott Family History

Eleanor snuffed her last cigarette out on the back of her hand, leaving a small, circular burn mark outlined in ash. She leaned forward against the railing of the bridge, glancing down at the darkness below. The night was cloudy, blocking the moon and stars from softly brightening the world. It was difficult to make out the outlines of the trees around her in the dark.

She checked her watch, illuminating her wand so she could make out the tiny hands. It was 3:45 AM, which felt like the perfect time to finally head back into the castle. Even Filch had to sleep sometimes, and after years of experience, she knew the likelihood of him patrolling the castle anytime passed three in the morning was slim. At this time of night, she had a ninety-five percent chance of making it back to Gryffindor tower without getting caught for breaking curfew. Eleanor liked to believe she had made sneaking around Hogwarts late at night into a science.

Her friends were probably all asleep by now as well, which was for the best. She felt ashamed of how she had acted in the common room earlier. Not only had she humiliated Hermione, but she had also snapped at Fred and Angelina and then stormed off like a child. A few hours of sleep before the apology tour would be necessary to lessen the guilt.

She pulled back against the railing, tapping it with her fingers a few times before walking back toward the castle. She kept her wand lit to guide her feet. She worried that something as stupid as tripping over a tree branch would be the final straw that caused her to fling herself off the astronomy tower.

At this hour, she knew better than to go in through the front doors. They were typically locked at night, but even when they weren’t, they scraped noisily against the stone floor. That would certainly wake Filch. Instead, she crept around the side of the castle to a classroom window situated on the first floor. She placed her hand carefully upon the glass, imagining how it would feel if the glass dissolved into nothingness. After another second of concentration, the glass disappeared, allowing her to climb through. Once safely in the classroom, she placed her hand upon the air, now manifesting the glass back into existence. Just like that, the glass frame reappeared as though it had never left.

She tiptoed to the classroom door, opening it slowly. She winced at the creak of the door but was able to slip through with ease. All that was left now was to avoid Peeves on her journey through the castle, which she believed she could do. She knew all his favorite haunts.

Even though she had been certain she would make it back to the common room without getting caught, it always came as a relief when she managed it. At this point, it was four in the morning. She scrambled into the common room, expecting to see it dark and dead. She was surprised to see the fire still burning, and Alfie sitting in the chair next to it.

He looked up when she entered, smilingly warmly at her. He grabbed the piece of parchment that was laying on the table in front of him and held it out in her direction. Hesitantly, she walked forward.

“What’s this?” she asked, tentatively looking at the lengthy parchment in Alfie’s hand.

“The essay for Snape, Alicia and I finished it. You did half of the notes for it, so you can copy mine. Just change it up a bit.”

Eleanor smiled gratefully at Alfie, taking the essay gently from him.

“Did you wait up for me?”

“I thought someone should,” he shrugged, “Fred waited for a while, but I told him to go to bed. The two of you need the rest of the night off from each other. Or I guess morning now.”

“I feel bad, I would have come back earlier if I had known you were waiting up. You can go to bed if you want,” Eleanor said, feeling even more guilty than before. Merlin, she didn’t deserve her friends.

“Nah, don’t feel bad. You needed some time alone, and I needed a reason to stay awake.”

Eleanor sat on the sofa in front of the fire, pulling the side table next to her closer so she could write her essay. Alfie handed her a fresh piece of parchment and a quill. She dipped the quill into an ink well someone had left next to the couch and began writing, using Alfie’s essay as a template.

“Does that mean you’ve been having your nightmares again?” she asked quietly after a moment.

Alfie shrugged, looking into the fire distractedly. She returned her eyes to her essay, letting him take his time. She wouldn’t push the subject. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds to be heard were the scratches of her quill and the crackling of the fire. Finally, Alfie sighed, turning his head to look at Eleanor once more.

“Yeah, I guess they’re back,” he was quiet for a moment, “some nights are dreamless and then others… I guess it’s because he’s back. It brings up… old memories. I don’t have to tell you that though.”

Eleanor nodded, continuing to write. She was on the second potion, the elixir of life, which could heal most injuries. She wondered if they had picked this one out of desperation, as nowhere did it specifically state that it could heal frost bite. It was a smart move though, she assumed it would cure such an injury. After finishing her sentence, she set her quill down, allowing her mind to ponder Alfie’s words.

“I’m hearing them again,” she said quietly, “my parents. I thought it had gone away, but it’s back. I think that’s why I freaked out today, it was like I kept reliving parts of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Alfie said quietly, biting his lip.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she answered, “I’m sorrier that the dreams are back. I really thought we had fixed that.”

“Sometimes…” Alfie stopped, looking back toward the fire. Eleanor didn’t say anything. She knew Alfie needed time to put his thoughts together from time to time. If she pushed him, he would never say what he needed to say.

“Sometimes, it feels like it is my fault,” he finished, his gaze set away from Eleanor.

“That’s not true!”

“They’re Death Eaters, Eleanor. They’ve done horrible things, and my brother and I… we benefit from it. The clothes, the money, everything I own has come from being part of a family of pureblooded terrorists. And they pretended publicly for years that it was all this huge mistake, but behind closed doors they felt pride and I just felt… shame.”

“You are not your parents, Alfie,” she said sternly, “you are not responsible for their actions.”

“But I haven’t done anything to stop it,” he was struggling to speak, his voice breaking, “I feel useless. I know he’s back; I’ve watched my father don the mask and run off to… you-know-who. I could say something, I could stand up for Harry, but I just stay quiet.”

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to keep yourself and Theo safe. Harry and I are surrounded by an Anti-Voldemort regime, we’re well protected. You’re surrounded by Death Eaters, you aren’t safe. You are doing what you need to do to get by. The best course of action for Harry and I isn’t going to be the same as the best course of action for you and Theo. It’s just the way it is.”

Alfie finally turned away from the fire, tears leaking down his face. Eleanor reached over to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. Alfie was one of the sweetest people she knew. It killed her that he equated himself with his family history.

“You’re not a Death Eater,” she reminded him, “you haven’t hurt anyone. You’ve done right by me and my family every step of the way, I promise. I’d rather you be alive and in the shadows, than overly brave and dead. Once we can get you and Theo out from underneath your parent’s rule, you can yell about Voldemort’s return from the rooftops.”

She pulled away, giving him a sad smile before picking her quill back up. It was suddenly much harder to perceive the words Alfie had written. She didn’t know how to make things better for Alfie, but she knew she wanted to try.

“Theo… I feel like I’ve lost him,” Alfie’s voice cracked, tears spilling down his face, “I lost him the day he was sorted into Slytherin. Not because he’s a Slytherin, that doesn’t mean anything really, but the people he’s around. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy… I know you have a soft spot for Draco, but he’s… he’s lost too.”

Eleanor felt tears stinging in her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about Draco Malfoy. She had been pushing him to the back of her mind all summer, hoping beyond all hope that he would be left out of everything. She wondered if he had met Voldemort yet. She couldn’t accept Draco as being too far gone; it broke her heart too much.

“We can help them,” she said, swallowing hard.

“Not if they don’t think they need our help. Theo hardly speaks to me anymore; this summer was the most isolated I’ve ever felt. I think he agrees with the sentiment my family has held about me for most of my life – that I’m a disappointment.”

“Being a disappointment in your family is a huge compliment,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Alfie gave a soft smile, wiping tears off his face, “but still. I never wanted Theo to think of me that way. Even if he ends up… with them, I think I’ll always love him. Does that make me a hypocrite?”

“I’d love Harry,” Eleanor said, “no matter what. Even if he burned the whole world down, I’d still have hope for him. It’s different for us, we aren’t just the older siblings. We became parental figures at some point.”

Alfie nodded, heaving a deep breath, and straightening in his chair. Eleanor began writing again, hoping at this point to obtain a passing grade without it being too obvious she had plagiarized.

“What about Draco?” Alfie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Draco’s like your brother too in some ways… not by blood of course, but from those first few summers after your parents... I mean, you grew up with him to an extent. Would you still hold out hope for him if he became a… a Death Eater?” 

“I don’t know,” Eleanor replied truthfully. The mention of her spending time with the Malfoys brought about memories she had repressed so strongly that she was no longer sure if they were real. She severely hoped they were not.

“I think I’ll always hold out hope for Theo, even if he joins you-know-who, but I won’t be able to stand by him. I’d take him back If I knew he felt remorseful, but…”

“I know what you mean,” Eleanor said quietly, “I think that’s how I feel about Draco.”

“My parents were a part of the group that killed your grandparents,” the words flew out of Alfie’s mouth so fast she wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly. He looked at her, his eyes wide in fear.

“I know, Alfie,” she said softly.

“You know?”

Eleanor nodded.

“And you… you still wanted to be my friend?”

“ _You_ didn’t help kill my grandparents,” she shrugged.

“But still-”

“My grandparents were victims of your parents, it’s true. But you are too. They’ve abused you for years and years now. To me, you represent my grandparents more than you do your parents. I love you, kid. You know that.”

Alfie smiled, one last tear sliding down his cheek.

“Don’t tell Iris I was crying,” he sniffled.

“I won’t,” Eleanor replied with a roll of her eyes.

They fell back into silence, Eleanor finishing up the last part of her essay. Her handwriting had gotten so messy towards the end, it would be a wonder if Snape could decipher it. She didn’t care much, at least she would have something to turn in.

Eleanor stretched, cracking her back as she threw her quill down. The sun was beginning to rise, illuminating the common room slightly. Being awake to see the sunrise reminded her of studying for OWLs in fifth year. It had been an exhausting experience, but a memorable one all the same.

“I know the others say they understand,” Alfie said suddenly, breaking her train of thought, “and I think they try to, but it’s hard to understand when your world hasn’t been affected by you-know-who in the ways ours have been. You aren’t perfect, you’ll snap at people sometimes and it’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt them in the end. The difference is they’re worried while we’re terrified. They’ve heard stories but we _are_ the stories. They don’t get it yet, and I don’t want them to ever get it, but I think they will soon.”

“I still shouldn’t have snapped at Hermione,” Eleanor interrupted, “it was dumb.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Alfie nodded in agreement, “but it wasn’t _that_ big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. You’re under more pressure than they are. Apologize to Hermione today and explain it didn’t have anything to do with her. I just hope you know… I get it. I _actually_ get it and I’m on your side. Always.”

Eleanor nodded, giving Alfie a grateful smile. She stood up, handing Alfie his essay back.

“Thanks for helping me with the essay,” she said, “and for everything else.”

“You would have done the same for me,” Alfie said, before adding, “I’m pretty sure you already have.”

“I can’t imagine a time where my homework was done and yours wasn’t” Eleanor said with a laugh.

“I’m sure it’s happened,” Alfie said shrugging, “Iris took your bag up to the dormitory with her when she went to bed.”

“Oh, that was nice of her,” Eleanor said with a genuine smile, “I think I’ll go try to sleep for a few hours before breakfast. Unless… would you rather me stay up with you?”

“No, go to bed,” Alfie said with a shake of his head, “I think I’ll head up too. Usually if I exhaust myself I won’t dream.”

They both walked toward their dormitories, the sun pushing its way even higher in the sky. She thought about skipping transfiguration and sleeping in instead. Her body had waited until that moment to let her feel the full extent of the toll her emotions had taken on her wellbeing. She felt vaguely ill.

“Oh, and Eleanor,” Alfie called, causing her to stick her head out form the dormitory stairs, “Fred was a total mess about the two of you fighting. He was sick with worry… are you sure-”

“I’m positive,” Eleanor said abruptly, although worry was starting to creep in. She had had the same thought the day before.

“Okay…” Alfie said slowly, “if you say so.”

And the two went their separate ways, one wishing for the sweet release of sleep, the other praying it wouldn’t come.


	18. Feels Like a Coming of Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- nudity, don't read if you're not comfortable with that
> 
> Also I listened to 'Coming of Age' by Foster the People on repeat while I wrote this chapter and I feel like that song sums up the mood I hoped to create by the end of the chapter.

Eleanor slept through Transfiguration that morning. And Charms. And halfway through lunch. If it wasn’t for Alicia, she probably would have slept until two in the afternoon.

“Eleanor, wake up.” Alicia’s voice was gentle, but it caused Eleanor to jolt awake.

Alicia was standing at the side of Eleanor’s bed, pulling the bed hangings back and allowing the sun a direct path to Eleanor’s eyes. Eleanor squinted, putting her hand in front of her face to let her eyes adjust to the sudden light. Her mind was playing catch up as it slowly unraveled itself from the grogginess of sleep. She had been sleeping so deeply that she was having trouble remembering what day of the week it was.

“Wus happenin?” Eleanor grumbled.

“Potions is what’s happening. Come on, get dressed, quickly so we won’t be late,” Alicia replied, moving to Eleanor’s trunk to pull out her school uniform for her.

“Potions,” Eleanor repeated, jumping up into a sitting position on her bed. The sudden movement made her slightly dizzy.

“We thought we’d let you sleep after everything yesterday,” Alicia said, throwing Eleanor undergarments, a red and gold tie, a pleated black skirt, a white button down, and her robes. “Iris told McGonagall you were ill and while she seemed irritated, she let you off the hook. The twins told Flitwick what Umbridge said to you yesterday and he was really understanding. We collected your work for you, but there’s nothing we can say to make Snape okay with you skipping Potions. Honestly, I thought you’d be awake by the start of lunch.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eleanor said, pushing herself out of bed and undressing as fast as she could out of her nightgown. She threw on her white button down, her fingers slipping on the buttons as she tried to fasten them quickly. “I thought I’d be up by Charms.”

“It’s okay, don’t fret,” Alicia said kindly, “both classes were doable. If you had to pick a day this week to skip, today was a good for it.”

Eleanor smiled weakly as she pulled her skirt up and tucked in her shirt. She ran into the bathroom attached to their dormitory, looking into the mirror only to realize she looked a mess. She had forgotten to take her mascara off the night before and it smudged under her eyes and onto her cheeks. She groaned, wetting a towel to try and wash it off.

“We still have like eight minutes, so I think you’ll be good,” Alicia called.

Once most of the mascara mess had been rubbed off her face, leaving a rough red mark from scrubbing in its place, she ran a brush through her strawberry blonde hair. This act only made it more staticky, so she threw her head under the sink, letting the water soak her hair. She squeezed it out with a towel, letting her hair lay in strings. What she really needed was a shower.

She brushed her teeth quickly and ran back out to where Alicia was waiting for her, leaning on her bed post. She pulled her shoes on, tripping over her own feet as she did so. She grabbed her tie and her schoolbag, and the two girls made their way down the dormitory stairs.

“You look like a wet rat,” Alicia noted, surveying Eleanor with amusement.

Eleanor flipped her off as she tightened her tie, laughing as she did so.

“Thanks for waking me up,” she said as they made their way to potions, “I’m sure Snape would have given me detention if I slept through his class.”

“He definitely would have,” Alicia agreed.

They made it to the dungeons with a few minutes to spare. Alfie was standing with the other students queuing outside the classroom, but she was surprised to see Fred leaning against the wall next to him. She raised her eyebrows at him as she grew nearer. When he noticed her, he smiled and held out his hands. He was holding something, but she couldn’t quite make it out.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he joked.

“What are you doing here? You aren’t in potions,” Eleanor said, confused.

“And thank Merlin I’m not. I don’t know why you three voluntarily signed up to spend your afternoons with Snape,” Fred smirked, “but I thought you’d be hungry, so I went to the kitchens and asked Dobby to make you a muffin. He was more than happy to.”

Eleanor looked into Fred’s hands more carefully and saw a small blueberry muffin wrapped in a napkin. She smiled up at him, reaching out to take the muffin. He grabbed her wrist before she could grab it, turning her hand upward so he could place the muffin in the square of her palm. His fingers lingered for a second on her wrist.

“Thanks Fred,” she breathed, smiling up at him.

“Didn’t know how’d you get through an hour with Snape without something in your stomach,” he shrugged, “but… I’m sorry for last night-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Eleanor interrupted him, “I was being a bitch and you had every right to tell me so. I’m the one who should be apologizing-”

“You’re both so annoying,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re good,” Fred sounded both embarrassed and defensive, and he stole a glance at Eleanor who smiled warmly back at him.

Eleanor understood why he was so quick to apologize. Last fall had been a difficult time for the both of them, with their nonstop fighting. She didn’t think Fred wanted a repeat of that experience any more than she did.

“Anyway,” Fred continued, his voice regaining its normal pep, “Lee had an excellent idea at lunch, and we are following through with it tonight.”

Alicia groaned and Alfie bit his lip, looking at Fred as though the words he had just uttered was the last thing he wanted to hear.

“What was his idea?” Eleanor asked curiously.

“No,” Alicia said stubbornly, “we are not doing that.”

“It’s been decided,” Fred smiled sinisterly, “we’re going skinny dipping.”

Eleanor laughed in surprise. “What? Where?”

“The lake obviously,” Fred responded calmly, “once it gets dark. We might need to some help from our friends Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.”

“No,” Alicia repeated with the shake of her head, “no way. It’s absurd.”

“Fine, then you don’t have to Alicia,” Fred rolled his eyes, “but Lee, George, and I are. Iris said she would too, and Angelina wasn’t overtly opposed. I know Alfie will pull through in the end.” Fred clapped Alfie on the back with a smile Alfie did not return.

“I don’t think any of us should,” Alicia reprimanded, “what if we get caught?”

“Then we’ll give Filch a show,” Fred shrugged, “so Eleanor, what do you say?”

“Of course, I’m down!” Eleanor said with another laugh.

There had been plenty of adventures in their many years at Hogwarts, but skinny dipping in the lake was not yet one of them. They had gone night swimming before, but they had swam fully clothed that time. Fred and Lee had gone streaking across the quidditch field one snowy night in their fifth year. Last year, they snuck out of Hogwarts every other weekend to go drinking at Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. The bartender there didn’t seem to mind that some of them had been underage as long as he was getting paid. But never before had they been skinny dipping. It seemed like one last thing they needed to do before leaving the place.

“Wicked!” Fred gave Eleanor a high five.

“Eleanor,” Alicia groaned, “don’t encourage them.”

“What, it seems fun! Oh, come on Alicia, what if you just swim in your underwear?” 

“I just think we’ll get into trou-”

Alicia’s sentence was cut off by Snape opening the door to the Potions classroom to let the class filter in. Eleanor stuffed the muffin Fred had given her into her mouth, trying to eat it as fast as she could before the start of class. She tried to thank him again, but only muffled choking noises seemed to come out of her mouth. Fred got the gist and he nodded in her direction before bidding them goodbye.

“Think about it, Alicia,” he called just before disappearing out of sight and down another corridor causing Alicia to scowl.

Potions that day was incredibly difficult. After turning in their frostbite essay, they moved on to other healing potions. In particular, they were brewing Skele-Gro, which included one of the most tedious set of directions she had ever laid eyes upon. Eleanor was grateful Fred had thought to grab her food before the lesson. She didn’t think she would have survived without it. It was in these little moments that she knew without a fraction of doubt that a part of her heart would always belong to Fred Weasley. 

After Potions, Eleanor and Alfie were finished for the day but Alicia still had Ancient Runes. The remaining two met up with Iris and Angelina in the library to work on the Transfiguration work Eleanor had missed. The days class had been spent on the basis of transfiguring themselves into inanimate objects. It was a tricky task, but luckily Eleanor didn’t need much catching up because they hadn’t started actually practicing yet.

“McGonagall says there’s usually a lot of mess ups with this in the first week of trying it,” Angelina said with a frown, “what if we somehow turn ourselves into an armchair and get stuck that way forever.”

“We aren’t actually turning ourselves into an armchair,” Alfie corrected, “McGonagall said it’s more about appearing as one rather than actually being one. It’s the image you’re putting out into the world, but you’re still you. It isn’t a complete transformation.”

“I’m still confused,” Iris said frowning, “are we or are we not turning ourselves into an armchair? And if I’m an armchair, could someone sit on me? If Montague sat his nasty ass on me, I would feel violated.”

“In some ways you are, in other ways you aren’t,” Alfie said with a small smile at Iris’s words, “it’s like, you’ll appear and act as a chair to everyone, including yourself but you still have thoughts, feelings, and most importantly magic. You can’t get stuck because a crucial part of this kind of magic is that you must _want_ to appear that way to others. If you don’t, it won’t work, and you’ll be you again.”

“I’m still worried I’ll get stuck as an armchair,” Angelina said, “or what if my legs turn into the bottom half of a chair but the top of me stays the same?”

“That’ll probably happen quite a few times before any of us get it,” Eleanor said with a laugh.

“That’s terrifying,” Angelina shivered, “I don’t see the use of turning ourselves into inanimate objects. When would we ever use this? Why can’t we just learn about Animagi?”

“Because becoming an Animagus is way harder,” Eleanor said wisely, thinking of her father and Sirius.

“You’re much more likely to get stuck in an Animagus form than you are with an inanimate object,” Alfie pointed out.

“Imagine if you’re an Animagus and you try to turn into a swan, but you fuck it up so that you’re half bird, half person. Like you’ve got these tiny little webbed feet but a human body-”

“Okay, stop Ellie!” Angelina said, laughing. “Why do we even learn half the stuff we do in Transfiguration? When are we going to ever need to turn a mouse into a teacup?”

“For a forest tea party where you forgot to bring any tea supplies obviously,” Iris answered, and everyone snickered.

After getting through most of their essay on the fundamentals on human-object transformations, the group packed up and made their way to the Great Hall for dinner where they met up with Alicia. They saved spots for George, Fred, and Lee but they never came. It was especially odd for Lee to miss a meal, but no one thought much of it. They assumed the trio was simply getting ready for the night ahead.

Their assumptions were proven true at eight-thirty that night when the three boys came bounding into common room holding piles of freshly laundered fluffy, white towels with goofy looking grins on each of their handsome faces.

“So, we’re actually doing this?” Angelina said, her eyebrows raised.

“Of course we are, it’s Lee. When he says he’s going to do something, he does it,” Iris said, flipping her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.

Eleanor noticed Fred had a piece of folded parchment in his hand that she recognized to be the Marauder’s Map. He must have asked Harry for it back for the night. Personally, Eleanor hadn’t wanted to pass that specific family heirloom onto Harry until after they had left but Fred and George had convinced her that Harry’s needs were greater than theirs.

“We need a final count of who’s down for tonight,” George said to the group, laying a stack of towels onto the table where Angelina, Alicia, and Eleanor had been coming up with Quidditch tactics. A few other students looked questioningly at the towels, but most people ignored it. The majority of the student body had just accepted that they would never quite know what Fred and George were up to.

“I am,” Eleanor said, raising her finger up as if being called on.

“Me too,” Angelina said with a definitive nod.

“I already said I was at lunch,” Iris added.

“Great,” George rubbed his hands together, looking toward Alfie, “what about you?”

“Umm, I don’t know,” he answered nervously.

“Oh, come on Alfie,” Iris pleaded, jumping up from her seat and moving next to him on the floor, “it’ll be fun! Will you do it for me? Please, please, please!”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Alfie responded softly, looking into Iris’s eyes as he said it. She squealed, giving him a hug before getting back up into her seat. He looked away quickly, trying to hide a bashful smile.

“Alicia?” Lee prodded, laying his head on her shoulder as she read, “what do you say? Everyone else is doing it.”

“You’re all going to get caught, naked by Filch.” Alicia said as she turned a page in her book.

“And you don’t want to be there to see it?” Fred said, resting his head on her opposite shoulder.

Alicia closed her book with a sigh, looking between the two boys on either side of her. She contemplated her options for a moment before finally giving in.

“Okay, I’ll come, but I’m not completely stripping.”

“That’s fine, we just want you to join us for the fun,” Lee said, giving her a pat on the shoulder before moving away. “Okay, so the plan. We wait for the common room to clear out, which we are hoping will be around midnight at the latest. If it gets any later, Eleanor we’re going to need you to pull out your authority voice and send the lot to bed. Once everyone’s gone, we’ll go. Since we’ve got the map-”

“What map?” Angelina asked.

“You’ll see soon,” Lee said dismissively, “we should be able to get out without any trouble. We’re thinking about sneaking out through the Muggle Studies classroom window on the first floor since it’s situated the farthest from Filch’s office. Once outside, it’s a straight shot to the lake.”

“It’ll be hard to sneak such a large group out,” Alicia pointed out.

“Yes, but not impossible. We do it all the time to get to the Hog’s Head,” George said with a shrug. “Anyone up for a game of exploding snap while we wait?”

So, they waited, watching as the common room filtered out. As midnight approached, the only groups left in the common room were themselves, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Eleanor had expected as such, but her stomach gave a slight squirm at the sight of Hermione. She had yet to apologize.

“Tell them to go upstairs,” Lee hissed, nodding his head in the trio’s direction.

“No, they don’t have to,” Eleanor sighed, getting up from her seat, “they won’t tell.”

“But, Hermione-”

“Give me a minute,” Eleanor said shortly, walking over to the table where her brother sat.

Harry looked up as she approached, covering the back of his hand with the sleeve of his robe. The act seemed strange, but Eleanor decided not to question him. She thought he was deserving of some secrecy of his own. He hadn’t had much since Rita Skeeter began writing articles about him during the Triwizard Tournament.

“Hermione…” Eleanor began tentatively, feeling awkward, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For last night, of course. It was wrong of me to lash out at you like that. I wasn’t myself yesterday, but that’s no excuse. I… I’m just sorry.”

Hermione surveyed Eleanor for a second, as though worried she was going to start yelling again. Eventually, she smiled softly and nodded, acknowledging Eleanor’s apology.

“It’s okay, I understand,” she said, looking between Harry and Eleanor, “it’s… it’s a rough time for everyone.”

Eleanor nodded, before taking a deep breath and moving on to her next order of business. “We’re all leaving to go… do something. We’ll be back later, but you all can stay down here if you want. I trust you guys not to rat us out.”

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, looking behind Eleanor at his brothers and the large pile of towels next to them.

“Going for a late-night swim.”

“Oh, can we join?"

“No, not this time, Ron,” Eleanor said quickly, “it’s a seventh-year thing tonight, but maybe another time.”

Ron and Harry were not going skinny dipping with them. That was a big no.

“Fine,” Ron grumbled, returning to his homework.

“Oh, and Harry?” Eleanor had started to return to her friends before turning back to her brother. “How’s detention with Umbridge going?”

Harry looked around the table at Ron and Hermione, shifting uncomfortably. He took a few seconds before answering her, and when he did, he kept his eyes set on a half-written essay laid out in front of him.

“Fine,” he said, “Just lines. I have to go back tomorrow.” He shot Angelina a glance, knowing he was going to miss Quidditch tryouts.

“Oh, lines aren’t too bad, I’ll tell Fred that’s what he has to look forward to.”

“But, um, El… could we maybe… talk soon?”

“Of course,” Eleanor furrowed her brow with worry, “do you want to talk now?”

“No, no,” Harry said hurriedly, “go for your swim. We can talk later.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” and for the first time that night Harry’s voice sounded steady.

She spared one last worried glance at Harry before walking back over to where her friends were huddled. George had the map out in front of the group, explaining to them how it worked. Everyone’s eyes watched with fascination as dots moved across the map.

“This is so cool,” Alicia whispered, “why didn’t you tell us about it?”

Eleanor looked between Fred and George. To be completely honest, she wasn’t sure why she had never shared the secrets of the Marauder’s Map with the rest of her friends. That map had a tiny bit of her father’s magic still alive within. It was sacred to her.

“We didn’t want you all hogging it,” Fred said, letting Eleanor off the hook. She gave him a quick, grateful smile.

“Okay, Filch just made it back to his office, and all the Professors are in their quarters. I wish the map showed us Peeves, but we will work with what we’ve got,” Lee said, standing up. “Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, although Alicia still appeared apprehensive. They each grabbed a towel from the pile and headed out of the portrait hole. It was a straight shot to the Muggle Studies classroom. They snuck down the steps into the empty corridor on the first floor as George kept an eye on the map. At one point, they heard Peeves singing to himself from the floor above and hastened their pace. Finally, they made it to their destination, sliding out of the window one by one.

The feel of the cool, night air on their faces rallied the group into a fury of excitement. Lee was sprinting as fast as he could toward the lake, laughing to himself the whole way. Iris skipped across the grounds, her arm linked with Angelina’s. Even Alicia was smiling to herself as Eleanor, Fred, and George sang contrasting parts of the muggle song “Bohemian Rhapsody” out of tune. When they finally arrived at the edge of the lake, everyone appeared out of breath.

“How are we going to do this?” Angelina asked, “I don’t really want all of you to see me naked.”

“Then take your underwear off once you get into the water,” Eleanor said as she placed her towel down by the edge of the lake.

“I don’t care if any of you see me naked,” Lee said, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it beneath an old tree whose roots stretched down into the muddy bank of the shallow water.

“I personally don’t want to see you naked,” Angelina retorted.

“And I personally do,” Iris added with a wink.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Lee laughed, “but more seriously though, no one tell Oli I got naked in front of everyone. He gets insanely jealous, believe me.”

“That’s a shame because I was going to write to him tomorrow morning to recount how I saw your beauty of a bum in the reflection of the moonlight,” Fred said.

“You always seem to forget that Wood was our Quidditch captain for three years and we know how he can be. Not a single person here is willing to endure his wrath when it comes to you or Quidditch,” Alicia said with a smirk.

“Okay, okay I’m just looking out for your safety,” Lee removed his trousers next, leaving himself in just a pair of briefs.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Eleanor said quickly, “before Lee gets completely naked, who all is here is going to go in naked and who’s going in with underwear first?”

“I don’t care who see’s me naked,” Iris said, sitting underneath the massive tree and pulling her shoes off, “I’ll do it.”

“Same here,” Fred said, throwing his shoes down next to the rest of Lee’s clothes.

“Well, quite a few people here have already seen you naked Fred, so it really doesn’t matter does it?” Iris pointed out.

George snickered at Alicia’s words as he began unbuttoning his shirt. Fred flicked her off with a roll of his eyes while Eleanor looked back at Alicia, Angelina, and Alfie, who were all watching the others hesitantly.

“Okay, I’ll do it too but only if no one peaks,” Eleanor said, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred.

“Why are you only calling me out?” Fred asked, a look of mock concern plastered across his face.

“Because you are a _whore_ ,” Eleanor said, stressing the last word with a hint of sarcasm.

“Nah, it would be because you’re hot,” Fred said, smirking.

Eleanor felt as though she were choking on air. She coughed out a laugh, not sure exactly what to say. The night was slightly chilly but her skin grew warm at his words. He looked her over one more time, his smirk still in place, before unbuttoning his own shirt and throwing it carelessly to the base of the tree.

 _Merlin_ , _Quidditch was good for the body_ , Eleanor thought as she raked her eyes over Fred’s bare chest. He wasn’t overtly muscular, but Merlin he was toned. His freckled chest flexed slightly as he moved to unbutton his trousers. And his _arms._ They were his best feature, but she had already decided that a long time ago. His arms were chiseled like that of a Greek God, which she attributed to hours of flying around beating Bludgers. If he wrapped those arms around her, she didn’t think anything could hurt her.

He looked back at Eleanor after removing his trousers, and she snapped her gaze away, feeling quite embarrassed. When she dared to look back, he was wearing a smug look on his face and she knew he caught her checking him out. She really needed to work on her self-control.

She walked with her head down, past Fred to where Iris stood undressing herself. Eleanor slipped out of her skirt and kicked her shoes off. After loosening her tie and pulling it over her head, she undressed herself until she was left only in a bra and underwear. She turned back around, wishing she had Alicia had thrown her a cuter bra that morning. She let her eyes wander back to Fred for a moment only to find him already looking in her direction. He didn’t say anything but appeared to bite down on his tongue. After a moment, his eyes moved up her body to meet her eyes. That stupid smug expression of his found itself placed firmly back upon his face.

“Okay,” Lee said, dipping his foot into the edge of the water before walking back to where the rest of their half-naked friends stood, “us five will take off the rest of our clothes and run straight into the water on the count of five.”

“Are you three pervs just going to stand there and watch us get completely naked?” Iris yelled back at Alfie, Angelina and Alicia.

“Oh please, we will only see your asses from this angle!” Angelina yelled back with a laugh.

“Good thing we all have really nice asses,” George said with a little shake of his ass.

“Okay, everyone ready?” Lee said, “1…2…3…4…5!”

On the count of five, Eleanor unclipped her bra and let her underwear fall down to her ankles. She closed her eyes, stepping out of her discarded underwear and ran as fast as she could into the water. The first few steps into the muddy bank sent a chill through her body, but the deeper in she went the more she adjusted. When she felt the water reach her belly button, she dove forward letting the water rush over the rest of her body. She swam underneath the water for a few seconds before popping back up in the depths of the lake. 

Iris was doggy paddling toward her, giggling as she went. Eleanor laughed, accidentally taking in some water as she did so. She spit it out, gagging, which only caused her to laugh more. Fred, George, and Lee were a few feet away from her, splashing water in each other’s faces. Eleanor had thought she would feel colder than she did, but the water was a comfortable temperature. The night felt absolutely perfect.

“Are you choking?” George called to Eleanor, “do you need me to give you a naked Heimlich?”

“No, please don’t,” Eleanor coughed as she yelled back to him, water still spouting back out from her lungs.

“Losers!” Iris yelled at the three still standing beside the tree next to the lake, “get in already! Alfie, _come on_!”

Alfie and Angelina joined next, wading out to the others in their underwear. As soon as Angelina was completely submerged, she parted with her undergarments, letting them fall to the bottom of the lake. Alfie was more reluctant.

“Take it off! Take it off, Alfie!” Iris shrieked, giggling even harder than before. After a few more encouragements from Iris, he obliged.

“Alicia!” Lee called, “Alicia, you don’t have to get naked, just get in!”

They could see Alicia wavering on the shore, her silhouette contrasting with the flickers of light coming from within the castle stationed in the distance behind her. The group had drifted further into the lake. They were all treading water, trying to keep their heads above water as small ripples splashed softly against their faces.

“Alicia! Alicia! Alicia! Alicia!” They chanted, hitting their hands against the surface of the water with every call of her name.

Alicia made her way into the lake, although rather slowly, to a round of hooting and hollering. Finally, the group was complete, and Eleanor had not felt so completely happy in a long time. Lee was swimming to the bottom of the lake, pulling up seaweed and throwing it at George and Angelina. Eleanor and Fred laughed as George screamed, ‘Get it off me, Get it off me!’ repeatedly. It took Eleanor a moment before she realized they were slightly secluded from the group.

“You didn’t peak, did you?” she joked, letting her mouth fall under the water for a second.

“That is a secret I will never tell,” Fred winked.

Eleanor let a little bit of water into her mouth before spitting it, fountain like, into Fred’s face. She laughed as he tried to wipe the water out of his face. He shook his wet hair out of his face, pushing it back with his hand. He looked so perfect as the moonlight reflected off the surface of the lake and illuminated his face.

She couldn’t believe only a day ago she had wished to drown in this very lake. She would have missed this, and this was everything.


	19. Let The Games Begin

_Eleanor,_

_I hope your first week is going well. Try to enjoy it as much as you can. School feels exhausting when you’re in it, but I would give just about anything to go back now._

_No real news to report, although Moony has decided to stay a little longer. Thank Merlin because it is rather boring here with you gone. He says he overheard you talking about Assassins with Fred and George. Do they still do that? If they do, you better win. Represent my legacy well._

_Let us know if there’s any issues. Maybe we can find a way to talk to you soon, little fawn._

_Much love,_

_Padfoot_

Eleanor folded the small piece of parchment carefully into a square. Her fingers caressed the edges of the paper gently as though it were a prized possession. She wanted to read over her godfather’s words again, but she wouldn’t risk it now that Montague had situated himself next to her. She traced the edging one more time before pocketing it in her robes. Her eyes raised to scour the plentiful crowd of students sitting in front of her, taking a deep breath before regaining her composure to appear more official.

She was standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with the eyes of every seventh year upon her. Montague was standing next to her, a large bag of books placed between them. She scanned the crowd for Fred, but he was no where to be found. George was lounging in the grass, his elbows supporting his upper body so he could look at Lee while they spoke. Alfie was sitting a few yards away with his legs crossed as he watched Iris explain something to Angelina. Eleanor could tell she was enthusiastic about the topic because of her use of constant hand gestures. Alicia was next to Isabella Hart, nodding at whatever she was saying, but Eleanor still couldn’t locate Fred.

She checked her watch. It was six-thirty. She had hoped Fred would have managed to squirm his way out of Umbridge’s detention by six. She wasn’t sure if she could hold the meeting off much longer.

“What exactly are we waiting for?” Montague asked her, looking annoyed.

“Not everyone is here yet,” she responded with a frown, “Fred’s still in detention.”

Montague rolled his eyes. “We can’t wait on Fred, most everyone else is here. We might as well get on with it.”

“It isn’t fair to start the game if not everyone is here yet,” she argued hotly. “Just… give it five more minutes. He’ll be here.”

Montague looked as though he were going to argue, but stopped abruptly, squinting over her head. Eleanor turned to see Fred jogging toward them from the locker room. She smiled triumphantly at Montague and he rolled his eyes once more. As Fred moved closer, she could immediately tell something was wrong. He looked disgruntled, clutching his hand awkwardly in front of him as he walked. When he made his way to the group of students sitting in front of Eleanor and Montague, he sat in the back of the group, away from Lee and George. Eleanor tried to catch his eye, but he was looking determinedly down at the grass, his nostrils flaring in what she believed to be anger.

Eleanor wanted to go to him. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she had a job to do. So, she stuffed her concern for Fred to the back of her mind with the contents of Sirius’s letter. It was finally time to start Assassins, and this was something she was actually looking forward to for once.

“Alright,” Montague said, clapping his hands together, “is everyone here?”

There was a slight murmur amongst the crowd, as heads turned to look for friends and classmates. George looked in Fred’s direction, confused as to why his brother was sitting off by himself. He glanced over to Eleanor, his eyebrows raised in confusion. She shrugged in response, staring once more at Fred. He was still picking at the grass.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Montague resumed after a slight pause, silence descending upon the crowd. “We are gathered here today to discuss the 1995-1996 round of Assassins. If you aren’t interested in participating, now’s your chance to leave.”

There was a general buzz of excitement. The students looked around at each other, but no one made any attempt to leave.

“Great,” Montague said, “if you’re here, you’re committed. You can’t back out just because you don’t want to play anymore. Most importantly, I don’t want anyone snitching to Umbridge. We’re going to need that in writing.”

Eleanor pulled a piece of parchment out of her bag along with a quill and handed it to Lee, who sat closest to the front. It had been Eleanor’s idea to force the students to swear in writing that they wouldn’t tell Umbridge. The last thing they needed was the Ministry shutting down the one thing they were all looking forward to for the year.

“Why would anyone tell Umbridge about this?” Isabella asked with a furrowed brow as the piece of parchment was handed to her.

“Well, someone could want revenge if they’re kicked out of the game early,” Eleanor said, shrugging.

“Or a pompous prat trying to get in with the Ministry,” George added, his name already signed.

Isabella considered her options for a moment before jotting her name down below Alicia’s. Eleanor watched as the piece of parchment made its way around the entire group. She didn’t want anyone to somehow weasel their way out of signing. She wanted to eliminate all possibilities of this somehow getting back to Umbridge.

“So, is this like a contract of some sort?” Eden Smith, a Slytherin girl, asked as she handed the fully signed parchment back to the front where Eleanor stood waiting for it.

“Sort of, yes,” Eleanor said, her eyes shifting to Montague as she grabbed the list of signatures.

“What do you mean, sort of? What happens if one of us tells Umbridge? What did we consent to when we signed that piece of paper?”

“Eden, that is a great question to ask before you sign a contract,” Montague replied condescendingly, “but alas you all waited until after. Eleanor and I decided to hex the quill _and_ the parchment so that anyone who has signed will be unable to speak of any of this to Umbridge.”

“How so?” Isabella asked, concerned.

“It just makes it so that the words cannot be formed in her presence,” Montague said simply. “You’ll have a hard time even remembering what you wanted to tell her.”

Eleanor was impressed yet again with how easily lying came to Montague. She had come across the hex years ago while browsing through a stack of old textbooks from the restricted section of the library. Thanks to Madam Pince tutoring Eleanor in her early years, she was allowed to check out books located in the restricted section just as long as she didn’t inform the other professors she was doing so. This textbook in particular had been called _A Wizard’s Guide to Privacy and Secrecy: The Spells They Won’t Teach You in School._ It spoke of a spell called the _Indecins_ hex, which could force a person to become mute if they attempted to tell a secret they had promised to keep.

The issue with the _Indecins_ hex was the way in which it forced a person to become mute. The spell worked quite simply. If a person placed under the hex attempted to divulge a secret they had sworn to keep, they would bite their own tongue off rather than speak the words into existence. It was quite morbid, but it fascinated Eleanor. She found herself wishing her parents had used the hex on Peter when they made him their secret keeper. Wondering if she would one day require a secret keeper of her own, she wrote it down in the small notebook she carried with her at all times, keeping it tucked away.

Over the weekend, Eleanor and Montague spent hours in the back of the library planning out every possible scenario these games could bring about. Eleanor mentioned her worries about Umbridge early on and Montague agreed. She suggested the _Indecins_ hex, not entirely thinking he would agree to placing it upon their friends. To her surprise, he had been all for it. It was his enthusiasm for the spell that made her question her morals surrounding the use of such a hex on a bunch of seventeen-year-old children. She made sure to tell all her friends about it the day before, if only to lessen her guilt about using it. Of course, when she informed them, she made it sound as though it had been completely Montague’s idea.

“Alright, now that that’s been taken care of,” Montague continued, “it’s time we lay out the ground rules for the year.”

“First and foremost,” Eleanor said, “the use of any unforgivable spells in this game will lead to your immediate disqualification. As well, we will be forced to inform the Headmaster of your actions. The most likely consequence of using an Unforgivable Curse during the course of Assassins will be expulsion from Hogwarts along with a stint in Azkaban.”

“Isn’t that… well, why would anyone do that to begin with?” A Hufflepuff seventh-year, Lucy Humphries, asked nervously.

“You would think it would be common sense but unfortunately that has not always been the case,” Eleanor said with a frown, “it’s happened before.”

“But I doubt any of us would try such a thing,” Montague added quickly as students began looking nervously at one another.

“Has anyone… actually killed another person over this game?” Lucy looked as though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer to her question.

“No, of course not,” Montague said sternly.

Another lie. Sitting on a dusty, wooden bookshelf in the Head Student’s study was a book detailing every round of Assassin ever played at Hogwarts. It appeared unassuming, placed won a shelf between beautifully designed book spines, detailed in gold and silver lettering. Instead of ornate, this book was dirty and leatherbound, possessing a brown cover which had decayed slightly with age. The first entry was dated 1056 AD but was written in Ancient Runes, which neither Montague nor Eleanor could decipher as a result of never taking Ancient Runes. It didn’t matter much anyway; the ink was so faded it would have been difficult to make out even if it were in a language they could understand.

In 1386 AD, the writing switched to English, but a version that differed greatly from modern English. The style of writing combined with faded ink made it just as difficult to make out. One thing was for sure, the game had gone through multiple versions throughout the years. At one point it was given the name ‘Secret Killer’ which was changed to ‘Enemy Within’ in 1818. It wasn’t until 1950 that the game was given its current title of ‘Assassins’.

Sometime in the 1600’s someone had the brilliant idea to charm the ink into lasting indefinitely, therefore every entry past that point still shined as bright as ever, making it much easier to read. Each entry was documented in the same format. It began with the year, the names of the Head Students, an overview of the rules that were put in place, and every step played throughout the year. It detailed who took out who until the final winner was crowned.

It was thanks to this book that Montague and Eleanor became aware that from 1627 until present day, a total of three deaths could be attributed to Assassins. Two of the three occurred accidentally, or rather it was written as such. One student misplaced a stunning spell on top of the Astronomy Tower, striking a fifth-year square in the chest and pushing them over the railing to their death below. The other had occurred when someone tried to stun a student off their broom during Quidditch practice, leading to another death at the hands of a great fall.

The last death had been purposeful, and the Head Girl at the time went into great detail describing the event in the log. The year was 1817, and a young man with the surname Gaunt used the game as an excuse to kill the muggle-born student he had been assigned to. He was expelled and sent to die in Azkaban, although all official reports of the incident left out the role the game played. Eleanor assumed none of the other students wanted to admit that an innocent game they were involved in was a part of a murder scheme. No winner was named in 1817, but the game was picked up the very next year with a new name and stricter rules.

Eleanor and Montague agreed that no one else needed to know about the bloodier parts of the game. If you compared the deaths between Assassins and Quidditch, Quidditch came out as the clear winner. Quidditch was a school sanctioned sport even with its death toll and therefore Eleanor felt no shame in continuing the game.

“The Unforgivable Curse some participants have deemed acceptable in the past is the Imperius curse,” Eleanor explained, “it’s seen as the lesser of the three; no pain, no death, but it’s still cheating. If you must take another person’s willpower away to win, you don’t deserve to win. Simple as that.”

“Now onto the less obvious rules,” Montage interrupted, commanding the meeting as his own, “Eleanor and I have decided to loosen the strings a bit this year. The only places off limits to attack another person are when they are in class, on a broomstick, in the astronomy tower, sleeping in their bed, or using the bathroom.”

“And by using the bathroom,” Eleanor glared at Montague, speaking over him to regain control, “we mean either actively using the toilet or showering. If they’re washing their hands, standing around for a smoke, fixing their makeup, or skiving off you are free to have a go.”

“So, we can stun our targets in the great hall during mealtimes?” Ares Lovegood, a Ravenclaw similar to his sister Luna, interjected.

“Yes,” Montague answered quickly, “we are allowing that this year. Of course, such action comes with risks of its own. You could be caught by a professor during mealtimes, and if you are, you must take your punishment without tattling. Beware of the possible consequences every time you attempt your shot.”

“Does it have to be a stunning spell?” Eden Smith spoke up again.

“Yes, and no. The first spell you cast doesn’t _have_ to be a stunning spell, but a stunning spell must hit your target for them to be eliminated.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Lucy asked.

“It just means you can hit your target with any spell you believe will make it easier to stun them. Well, any spell other than unforgivable spells or spells that could do any real damage to another person. No inherently dark magic is allowed either, but body bind spells and paralyzing hexes are free range,” Eleanor amended.

“We have also decided that potions may be used throughout the course of this game, either on your target or yourself.” Montague added.

“Again, only use potions that won’t do any serious or lasting damage on your target,” Eleanor interrupted, “we have a list of potions and spells that have been outlawed for the game. These are the more common charms, hexes, and potions so we are quite aware that this list isn’t complete. Montague and I have the final say on if a spell you use is out of line, and you can be disqualified if a spell is too dangerous. You may ask us ahead of time if a spell you are planning to use is legal in this game.”

Eleanor pulled a stack of parchment out of her bag, the title on each reading _Rules and Regulations_. She passed the pages out to the students in the crowd, allowing them to distribute amongst themselves. There was silence as the students skimmed the list they were presented.

“This list doesn’t say anything about dormitories,” Angelina pointed out, “in the past dormitories were out of bounds.”

“Dormitories are in bounds this year,” Montague said with a sly smile, “you may stun your target as long as they aren’t asleep in their bed. However, if a target falls asleep anywhere that isn’t their bed, say the library, the common room, outside on the grounds, wherever - they’re fair game.”

“The only reason we’ve made class out of bounds is because we don’t want the professors interfering. For that reason, if any of you are still taking History of Magic, that class counts as in bounds because Professor Binns truly won’t notice.”

“What happens if we successfully block a stunning spell?” Isabella asked, her hand poised in the air as if she were in class. “If their stunning spell backfires and hits them, are they out?”

“No, it doesn’t quite work that way. If you successfully block their spell, then you haven’t been eliminated and now you know who’s trying to assassinate you, but you can’t eliminate your assassin. You can only eliminate your target,” Eleanor explained carefully.

“Duels are allowed,” Montague added on, “you can protect yourself from an attack. The protections you are allowed follow the same list you currently hold in your hands.”

“And how will we be assigned our targets?” A Slytherin boy named Edward interjected. “It won’t be fair if it’s you two who are assigning our targets since you’re both playing.”

“Well, we aren’t assigning targets, obviously,” Montague said, annoyed. He reached into the large back of books sitting between him and Eleanor and tossed one, with greater force than necessary, into Edward’s lap.

“What’s this?” Edward asked haughtily, flipping through the seemingly blank pages in the book.

“ _That_ is what will be assigning targets,” Montague answered while flinging another book to the boy sitting next to Edward. The two boys shared a confused look, casting the empty books between their hands.

“We’ve charmed the journals,” Eleanor informed the group as Montague continued to hand out notebooks, “once everyone has a copy, all you have to do is write your name in the book and it will assign you a target by writing back to you. The name of your target will disappear once you’ve received it so no one else will be able to steal your book and decipher your target. Once you have eliminated your target, they have to pass their journal onto you. Once you write your name into the new journal, you will be given your next target.”

“These journals have been charmed to communicate with one another. That way no target will be assigned more than once, nor shall you end up having yourself as a target. These books will be able to fine tune the game in a more precise manner than has been possible in past years.”

“Wow,” Alicia breathed, impressed, “how did you come up with this?”

Eleanor shrugged in response. She wasn’t about to tell anyone how Voldemort had been the inspiration behind this idea. Tom Riddle’s diary was, in theory, a very clever piece of magic that she found herself being fascinated with after the fact, no matter how much she despised him. Of course, she wasn’t hiding anything but benign magic in between the pages of her diaries, but either way she didn’t feel the need to impart her thought process to her peers.

“Does everyone have a book?” Montague called to the group as he handed one last journal to Eleanor. There was a general consensus of nodding heads and murmurs in the crowd below.

“Great, are there any last-minute questions?” Montague asked.

“Do we have report to you two once we’ve killed off our target?” Lucy piped up.

“No, there will be no need for that. This book right here will be informing us of your kills for you, which we will use to document the game into the record book.” Montague pointed at the only book left. It was bright red to help distinguish it from the rest of the journals that had been passed out.

“And what about the prize?” George yelled from the crowd.

“Well, we thought we’d go with the basics this year,” Eleanor said with a smile, “nothing to fancy, just a hundred galleons and bragging rights.”

There was a collective gasp throughout the seventh-year students. No prize of that size had ever been allocated before, but thanks to a donation from the Black and Potter Family Fortunes this year was different.

“If that’s all, you may write your name into your book and discover your first target. The game will commence tonight at midnight. Have fun, play safe, and good luck to you all,” Montague said with his classic poster-boy smile.

There was a hum of excitement as students moved away from each other to gain privacy as they entered their names into their journals. Eleanor stepped away from Montague, putting at least 5 meters between herself and the closest student. She grabbed a quill from her bag, dipped it in a small bottle of ink she carried with her, and wrote her name carefully in her book. The ink settled on the page before disappearing entirely. As thought the page simply digested the ink into its depths, it regurgitated the ink back to the surface, spelling a name other than her own. Her book now read:

_Louis Wright._

He was a Slytherin. That was about all she knew of him; she would have to pay more attention to him over the coming week to gain a sense of who he was and what his schedule looked like. She wished she had gotten someone she knew first, but it was what it was. She was up to the challenge.

Louis Wright’s name disappeared just as hers had a moment prior and she closed her book shut gently. She gazed around at the students spread out on the Quidditch pitch, wondering which of them had just watched her name appear in their little notebook. She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline just from the thought.

She looked around for Fred only to find his eyes already fixed firmly upon her. He cocked his head, motioning for her to join him. She nodded and maneuvered her way through clusters of students, all of whom shut their books sharply as she approached. As she passed George, he jumped up from the ground and walked with her the rest of the way.

People were beginning to disperse all around them, looking suspiciously at each other as they left the field. It seemed as though no one trusted anyone, which was the whole point of the game. The winner would have to be cunning and manipulative. They must spare no thoughts for their own friends. Or the winner could play smarter. Team sports are much more interesting.

Dusk had fallen upon the grounds as Fred, George, and Eleanor walked off the Quidditch pitch and away from the castle in silence. They already knew where they were headed, it had been decided at breakfast. They arrived at the Whomping Willow, Eleanor placing a well-aimed spell at the tiny knot in the tree that would freeze it. They glanced around their surroundings to make sure they had not been followed before ducking into the small passageway that sat at the base of the tree.

It took some time for them make their way through the cramped, dirt passage, but at last they reached the Shrieking Shack. It felt like a breath of relief to be away from the castle, and most importantly away from the game. This was their safe space. No one else knew of the tunnel’s existence, and no one in their right mind would purposefully enter the Shrieking Shack. They all believed it to be haunted, but Eleanor knew its much more accurate history.

“Are you okay, Fred?” Eleanor asked as she made her way up the stairs to the shack.

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed… I don’t know you seemed odd coming onto the pitch tonight. How was detention? Was it awful?”

“Well, it’s always awful to be in that woman’s presence,” Fred said quickly, “but like Harry said, it was just lines. I was just annoyed she kept me so late.”

Eleanor couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something in Fred’s voice sounded off. She didn’t think he was lying to her, but at the same time she wasn’t sure he was telling the truth. Seeing as though he didn’t have a reason to lie, Eleanor tried to brush off her concern.

“So, we’re all in agreeance then? We’re in this together?” Fred inquired once they made their way to the bedroom on the second floor of the shack. Eleanor placed a curse on the door for extra protection in making sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Of course,” Eleanor said, “we have a pact.”

“And I just want to make sure we stick to it,” Fred replied tersely.

“Why wouldn’t we? It’s the best plan we’ve got to make sure one of us wins this thing. We help each other curse our targets. If we end up with one another as a target, we sit on it until it’s only the three of us left in the game. We keep an eye out for each other. It’s how we win.” George stated simply.

“Agreed,” Eleanor said.

“Good,” Fred sighed a breath of relief, “so, who do we got?”

“I’ve got Louis Wright,” Eleanor responded blandly, “problem is I don’t know much about him. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him and learn his routine before we do anything.”

“Ah, that’s a boring one,” Fred frowned, “but at least we can get a Slytherin out in the first round with him. What about you, Georgie?”

“That Hufflepuff Eddie Rhodes,” George shrugged, “I feel bad, he’s a nice bloke but we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Fred, we have Care of Magical Creatures with him. I could hit him on the way back from the castle.”

“That’s a possibility, but we don’t want to act too rash,” Fred pondered George’s words, rubbing his chin as he thought. “We might want to watch him for a bit before we do anything, just to be sure we can corner him at the best possible moment.”

“Who do you have?” Eleanor asked Fred.

He smiled sinisterly. “Alicia.”

“Oh no, you didn’t really get Alicia, did you?” Eleanor whined.

“What? It’s great news, we can hit her fast! I know her schedule like the back of my hand!” Fred said, waving Eleanor’s tone of concern away.

“I know, but she’s Alicia! I don’t want to get her out in the first round,” Eleanor said, biting her lip. Alicia was one of her closest friends and if she had heard anyone else say they were assigned to Alicia, she would have told her without hesitation. But it was Fred, and they had already made their pact.

“Better her than me,” Fred said with a shrug. “This is a ruthless game Eleanor. Like George said, we have to do what we have to do. It doesn’t matter how nice our targets are or how much we like them. You’re lucky you’re you or I would take you out just as fast.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eleanor shot back.

“Oh yeah,” Fred said with a grin, “just you wait until it’s only us left.”

“Just you wait until I’ve got you flat on your back,” Eleanor retorted before realizing what she had just said. She wanted to smack herself in the face. She had only meant that she would curse him back onto the floor but the way the words came out of her mouth sounded so _… sexual_. “I mean… I didn’t mean…”

She continued to stammer as Fred’s grin grew even larger across his face. It was him she wanted to smack across the face now. And then George burst out laughing, causing the other two to follow in suit. It had been a dumb way to put what she had been going for after all.

“We should get back before midnight,” George said, chuckling lightly still. “Don’t want to get caught in the halls by some lurking assassin.”

“Good point, George,” Fred said, his stupid grin still planted firmly on his face, his stupid eyes still fixed intently on Eleanor, “it’s time to let the games begin.”


	20. Percy (II.)

September flew by in a blur after the start of Assassins. The game was a welcome distraction as the seventh-years workload grew. All seventh-year potion students were given a capstone project in which they were to formulate a potion of their own making. After years of brewing every potion under the sun and learning about the properties of every possible ingredient, Snape believed all students should now be capable of mixing elements without instruction to create the desired result. This project wasn’t due until Christmas, but it was starting to build upon those taking the class.

Transfiguration and Charms were proving just as difficult, with essays being handed out every class session to be finished by the next one. A part of Eleanor wanted to drop all her classes, leave school, and become a full-fledged member of the Order of the Phoenix but she knew her godfathers would never allow it. Or at least Lupin wouldn’t. Someone needed to watch out for Harry at Hogwarts anyway.

Eleanor’s mood wasn’t improved by the fact that she had yet to eliminate her first target, Louis Wright. She was watching him carefully, with the help of Fred and George, but they hadn’t decided on how to properly ambush him yet. Louis was in Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures with Eleanor, but she didn’t share any other class with him. He wasn’t on the Slytherin Quidditch team, nor was he apart of any clubs. He spent most of his free time in the Slytherin common room, making it quite difficult for her to get at him. Fred pointed out that Eleanor knew the Slytherin password as she was Head Girl. The issue was that as soon as she burst into the Slytherin common room everyone would know her target was a Slytherin and be on guard. She had to be more cautious than that.

Her newest plan of attack would include hiding under Harry’s invisibility cloak and simply waiting for him to return one night after dinner and stun him before he reached the common room. Her backup plan involved Draco Malfoy, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could trust him not to two-time her.

George was having similar issues, but they had a concrete plan in place for his target. Eddie Rhodes was the elected student head of the Astronomy club, which was a rather small association. George considered using the Invisibility cloak to sneak up on him one night on the astronomy tower but decided that a more full proof plan would involve the use of Polyjuice Potion. The potion was currently brewing in the middle of a dusty room in the Shrieking Shack, which they would hang on to in case they needed it for future targets.

Fred on the other hand was having much better luck. After returning from their pact meeting in the Shrieking Shack the night of the first official Assassins meeting, Fred told everyone he had been assigned Montague and would need their help in knocking him out of the game. No one was surprised by Fred’s inability to keep his target to himself. It was common knowledge that Fred despised Graham Montague more than he did anyone else at Hogwarts. And for that reason, everyone believed him, including Alicia.

A few minutes after the clock struck midnight and the game commenced, Fred turned to Alicia with a pleasant smile and asked her to pass him a piece of parchment. As soon as her back was turned, he stunned her. His lack of mercy was both admirable and disturbing.

Alicia was the first person to be eliminated from the game and she was furious. She didn’t speak to Fred for an entire week after he stunned her, which Eleanor believed was to be expected. The game was anything but fair, but it still stung to have your own friend manipulate you out of the competition so early on. It probably also stung that Alicia had fallen for Fred’s bullshit in the first place.

After Alicia, Fred was assigned Athena Lovegood, one of the two seventh-year Ravenclaw Lovegood twins. Athena contrasted greatly from her younger sister Luna. Her hair was jet-black and cut sharply at her shoulders. Everything about her appearance was sleek and pristine, whereas her sister and twin brother appeared mildly disheveled, as though they were too lost in their own world to care much about their outward demeanor. Overall, Athena reminded Eleanor vaguely of Percy. A much less annoying version of Percy, but still someone who was trying to break away from the associations of their family name.

Eleanor helped Fred corner Athena by giving him the password to the Prefect Lounge on the third floor. Athena had been taking refuge in the there, probably to decrease the likelihood of being caught by her Assassin. The issue with the Prefect Lounge was that there was only one way in or out, making it the perfect place to become trapped. All Eleanor had to do was give Fred the password to the room, which she did gladly, and he took care of the rest. He was able to stun her in less than forty-eight hours after receiving her name.

With Athena Lovegood stunned, Fred was assigned to Adrian Pucey. He was delighted by this new target, as Adrian was a Slytherin Quidditch player who he despised playing against. It was taking him a great deal more time to corner Adrian than it had with either of his first victims, but he didn’t seem to mind. Eleanor believed Fred to be having the time of his life playing Assassins and to be quite honest, he was very good at it. If he kept up this pace, he would be the clear winner.

They knew the other progress being made in the game as well. Isabella Hart had taken Amelia Portridge out in the middle of the Great Hall after breakfast on Thursday morning. Professor McGonagall gave her detention for stunning a fellow student, but Isabella made sure everyone knew she believed the punishment to be worth it. Before Fred eliminated Athena, she was able to stun Slytherin’s Edward Taylor by somehow sneaking into his dormitory and waiting for him to retreat to bed for the night.

Lee Jordan successfully stunned Otis Belby of Hufflepuff by hiding behind Professor Binns desk and cursing him the minute he took his seat for History of Magic. In true Binns fashion, he made no notice of Lee jumping out from behind his desk nor the unconscious student that fell to the floor. Iris was busy finding her own success in the game. Her target, Hufflepuff’s Arlo Marchbanks, was so busy celebrating stunning Megara Carrow, that he didn’t notice Iris sneak up from behind him. Eleanor wished to be apart of the action so badly, but she didn’t want to giver herself away just yet. She knew she had to wait for the perfect opportunity, and she was willing to do so if it meant winning.

Luckily for them, no one had made an attempt to stun Fred, George, or Eleanor but they were still being especially cautious. The only thing they knew for sure was that none of them were in possession of the other, and that meant they spent an enormous amount of time together. They could only truly trust each other. Well, each other and Alicia. She was already out.

“What’s another word for prat?” George asked, pinching his brow together in concentration, his eyes closed. “We’ve used prat to describe him three times now.”

“Er, dick is a classic insult,” Alicia pointed out, looking over the piece of parchment sitting in front of Eleanor.

“Yeah, that’ll do, call him a dick,” George said as he looked back up, taking the parchment from Eleanor.

“No, you can’t write,” Eleanor snapped, ripping the letter back out of George’s hands, “we’ve already decided that it needs to be entirely in _my_ handwriting.”

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Harry asked, turning around on the sofa he was sitting at so he could face his sister and her friends.

Eleanor, George, Fred, and Alicia were situated at a small table in the corner of the common room with their backs firmly against the wall. It was too cramped to truly fit them all, but that table provided the best protection from an oncoming attack, so they dealt with it. Alicia was still acting coldly toward Fred, but they were at least on speaking terms. Most of the small table was taken up by Alicia’s history of magic project, but a small corner was reserved for the piece of parchment Eleanor and the twins were pouring over.

“We’re writing Percy,” Eleanor said simply as she dipped her quill into Alicia’s open ink bottle.

“We never should have told you about that letter,” Ron sighed, his face now peering at them from over the sofa.

“Oh, shut up Ron,” Fred groaned, “the only thing you’ve done right recently is tell us about Percy’s stupid letter.”

Eleanor stomped down on Fred’s foot and he winced. She knew Fred’s dig was aimed at Ron’s so far disastrous Quidditch performances. It was hard to enjoy practice anymore as Ron fumbled about, which only succeeded in making him less confident in his abilities. The less confident he was, the worse he played. Eleanor knew Ron could do better, she’d seen it when she played with him at the Burrow over the summers. He just needed a confidence boost, and she wasn’t sure what would bring that about.

The tip of Ron’s ears blazed pink. He ducked his head down, leaning against the couch so they could no longer see anything but the top of bright red hair. Eleanor looked over at Fred, displeasure etched across her face.

“Do you want to hear what we’ve got before we send it Ron?” Eleanor asked, hoping to engage Ron in the conversation once more. She was glad he had informed them about Percy’s letter, and she didn’t want him regretting it.

“I guess,” Ron mumbled without turning to look at them.

“Well then get your arse over here Ronald.”

Ron groaned before picking himself slowly off the sofa perched in front of the fireplace and making his way over to them. Alicia tried to make room at the table, sliding her textbook and posterboard over as much as she could manage. George whisked the chair Lee had been sitting in across the room out from under him, flying it over to their tiny table. Lee flipped off George before settling himself on the floor.

“Here, have a seat Ron,” George said, patting the chair he had stolen from Lee, “I do believe you will approve of our work."

“And if you don’t,” Fred added, “we don’t care, we’re still going to send it.”

Ron rolled his eyes before turning his attention to Eleanor. She cleared her throat, holding the letter in her hands as though she were about to read something of the upmost importance.

_Dearest Percy,_

_I am writing to inform you of the tragic demise of your brother, Ronald. In an unfortunate turn of events, Ron was viciously killed after attempting to sever ties with Harry Potter. As you well know, Harry has quite the streak of violence in him. I believe you would be proud of the way Ron went out. He stood upon the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, declared his loyalty to the ministry and proclaimed himself to be following in his favorite brother’s (that’s you!) footsteps. That’s when Harry just lost it! He took a butter knife and stabbed Ron twenty-eight times. Dumbledore witnessed the entire thing but has decided to let it slide since Harry’s feelings were hurt. He doesn’t want his favorite pupil feeling sad!_

_On a much more serious note, fuck you, you pompous, pretentious prat. Ron read us your letter as soon as he received it. We are extremely proud of Ron for making prefect, but him becoming prefect didn’t turn him into you. You do realize both Bill and Charlie were also prefects, and both currently believe Harry? If Ron is going to follow in anyone’s footsteps, I would put my money on Charlie’s. However, Ron is his own person and will make his own way without needing to follow any of his brother’s examples._

_I don’t know why anyone thinks you’re the “smart brother” if you actually think the majority of the Wizengamot still believes Harry to be guilty. If they truly believed that he would have been sentenced. That’s how the justice system works, you idiotic prat. By the by, please let your boss know that Dolores Umbridge has been received HORRIBLY at Hogwarts and all the students despise her. She is NOT a delightful woman; she is a pink toad. (Professor, if you are invading our privacy by reading the letters we send out now, please know I truly mean every word! You disgust me!)_

_Lastly, there is nothing wrong with Ron taking the “Fred and George” route, whatever the bloody hell that means. If you paid them any attention at all you would realize they are much smarter than you give them credit for. You are a prat. You are a git. Sending Ron that letter was disgusting. I only hope one day you realize your mistake and start following the “Fred and George” route yourself. A route in which you stand by your family and your friends. Don’t write to any of us again if all you’re going to do is slander your family and mine. I’ll look out for Ron, I always have. DON’T speak of my brother anymore, you dick._

_Eleanor_

“Do you really think I’m like Charlie?” Ron asked when she was done reading the letter.

“Of everything we put in that letter, that’s what you got out of it?” Fred questioned, disgruntled.

"Of course I do,” Eleanor said with a smile, ignoring Fred. She knew how much Ron looked up to Charlie and she truly saw the resemblance between the two. Charlie went out of his way to be kind to Eleanor; Ron went out of his way to do the same for Harry. She held Ron in the same regard as she did Charlie, which was a hard feat.

“I like the part where you say I killed Ron,” Harry piped up from the couch, a grin on his face.

“That’s my favorite part too,” Fred said with a laugh.

“He’s going to be pissed when he reads that letter,” Harry noted.

“Yeah, and I was pissed when I had to read his,” Eleanor shrugged, “paybacks a bitch.”

“I approve,” Ron said suddenly, looking between his brothers. “It’s funny and he deserves it.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Ronald!” Fred said as he clapped his brother on the back.

“Well, if that’s settled,” George began, reaching for the letter as he stood up, “I’ll go send this bad boy. Harry, do you mind if we use Hedwig?”

“Go for it,” Harry nodded before returning back to his own work.

“You sure you don’t want one of us to go with you Georgie?” Fred asked. “There might be an attempt on your life if you go out alone these days.”

“No, I’m good,” George replied sincerely, “have faith in me, brother.”

They watched George make his way out of the common room. Lee stuck his leg out as George passed him, causing George to wipe out on the floor. Fred and Eleanor snorted as George got back to his feet.

“Karma’s a bitch!” Lee yelled after George. “I hope he gets his ass stunned out there.”

“What are you even working on?” Fred asked Alicia, picking up the posterboard in front of her and examining it closely.

“It’s my history of magic presentation,” Alicia frowned as she snatched her project out of his hands, “I have to give a speech on the ways in which wizard’s have shaped muggle history without their awareness. It’s actually very interesting, because not only have we shaped muggle history, but they’ve shaped major events in our past. In fact, Grindelwald used the World Wars to deepen anti-muggle sentiment-”

Fred pretended to snore, his head falling over the back of his chair. Eleanor choked down a giggle.

“You can practice on me when you’re done,” Eleanor said hastily, “I think it sounds interesting.”

“Thank you, Eleanor. See Fred, some of us are civilized.”

Fred rolled his eyes, his head lolloping to the side so he could gaze at Eleanor. The way in which he looked at her made her face feel hot in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She busied herself, hunting around her school bag to find her transfiguration textbook.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do with your target yet?” Fred asked lazily.

“If I had, I would have told you,” Eleanor sighed as she attempted to position her textbook in a way that wouldn’t interfere with Alicia’s project. Ultimately, she settled on keeping it in her lap. “You’re the one who’s been eliminating targets left and right. Maybe you should tell me what to do.”

“I’ve already told you I think the invisibility cloak is the way to go,” Fred whispered, “if not that, then maybe we could try and slip him a fainting fancy or something.”

“I don’t know… it would be so much easier if I could just ask Draco-”

Fred scoffed, sitting up in his chair and crossing his arms.

“What?”

“You and I both know that’s a bad idea. I will never understand why you trust Malfoy-”

“I don’t _trust_ Malfoy,” Eleanor corrected, irritated, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Well, I understand,” Alicia commented, adding something to her presentation as she spoke, “and I think it’s pretty easy to understand the complex relationship you have with Malfoy if people actually listened to you when you spoke.”

“I do listen to her!” Fred insisted.

“Sure.” Alicia said quietly.

“I do! Eleanor, I do listen to you, it’s just… it’s Malfoy!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Eleanor protested.

"Well, Alicia said-”

“Okay, well I’m not Alicia.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Alicia clearly uncomfortable with the small argument she had initiated. From across the room Eleanor could hear Iris giggling uncontrollably at Lee’s impression of his first assassination. Eleanor watched them for a minute, wondering what exactly had happened between her and Fred that made it so difficult for the two of them to just be friendly all the time.

_Oh, except you know exactly why, don’t pretend._

“Maybe you should grab the invisibility cloak and wait around the entrance of the common room. He might turn up alone, you never know.” Fred said after a moment.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Eleanor sighed, heaving herself from the table. She walked over to Harry, poking him on the shoulder before leaning down to whisper.

“Can I borrow…”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Harry said absentmindedly, waving her away with his hand. It was this action that made her stop in her tracks. The back of his hand looked… mangled.

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

“What?” He pulled the sleeve of his robe over his hand hastily. He turned so he could look at her head on. His eyes were swimming in fear.

“Your hand looked… like you hurt it or something."

“No… Er, I just… wrote on the back of my hand.”

“You wrote on the back of your hand?”

"Yeah, I can’t forget another essay for Snape, so I wrote uh, a reminder.”

Eleanor knew he was lying but she also knew he wasn’t about to tell her anything. He was stubborn to a fault. She sighed, giving him one final look before making her way up the staircase that led to Harry’s room. She picked up the cloak, stuffing it in her bag before making her way back to where Fred and Alicia sat.

“Okay, wish me luck,” she whispered to her friends.

Fred gave her a thumbs up before she turned to make her way out of the portrait hole. As soon as she was out of the safety of the Gryffindor common room, she pulled the cloak back out and threw it over her head. She tiptoed quietly through the castle as she made her way down the stairs and into the dungeons. She was very grateful that she had not been sorted into Slytherin if only for the fact that she didn’t have to live in the dungeons. It was cold down there.

She was almost at the entrance to the Slytherin common room when she heard it. Filling the empty corridor was the sound of soft moans. She wanted to stomp her feet on the ground and throw a fit. No way she could sit around waiting for Louis to show up as some couple kissed or fucked or did whatever they were doing just a few feet away.

And then she thought, _what if it’s Louis?_ It may have been wishful thinking, but to catch him in the hallway completely off guard while he was hooking up with some girl was the perfect opportunity. She crept as quietly as she could, her wand held at the ready as she peered around the corner into a small groove in the corridor. When she caught sight of the couple, she wanted to slam her head against the wall so hard she passed out.

It was George and Montague, entwined with one another. Montague had George pushed up against the wall, his hands pulling George by the back of his neck so they could kiss passionately. George was cradling Montague’s face in one hand, the other pulling Montague’s body closer to his own. Eleanor groaned out loud before quickly pressing her hand to her mouth.

The two broke apart quickly, looking for the source of the sound. She held her breath, hoping they would simply resume so she could hurry back to Gryffindor tower. After a minute of Montague looking up and down the Hallway, he made his way back to George, placing both his hands gently on George’s cheeks and bringing him in for a much softer kiss. Eleanor tiptoed backwards as quietly as she could. She considered throwing the cloak off and giving George shit, but she didn’t for two reasons:

  1. If Montague found her creeping around the dungeons, he would know her target was a Slytherin.
  2. If she pulled an invisibility cloak off her head, Montague would inform everyone she possessed said invisibility cloak, and she wanted to keep it a secret to help her win the goddam game.



Not a single reason she gave was to lessen George’s embarrassment. In fact, she believed she would be staying up until George got back so she could make sure he knew exactly what she had witnessed. He wouldn’t let her tell Fred, so she may as well complain about George’s lovers to George himself.

Of course, Graham Montague was George’s only lover. And he had been for the past two years.


	21. The First Secret

It was late March 1994. Fifth year. The hint of spring was in the air, but Eleanor had never felt colder. Everywhere Eleanor looked there were signs of Fred and Angelina’s budding romance. Angelina was missing from her bed in the girl’s dormitory most nights. Eleanor promised herself she would stop looking over at the empty bed before closing her bed hangings, but she had yet to follow through. She fell asleep every night with a now dull, but ever present, ache in her heart.

Some days were worse than others. The worst seemed to come in the smallest of things. Two weekends ago Angelina had returned to the girl’s dormitory in the knitted jumper Mrs. Weasley made for her children (and her honorary Potter children) every Christmas. The sight of Angelina wearing something of Fred’s, the knitted F sitting proudly upon her chest, was enough to drive Eleanor from the rest of her friends for the weekend. She sat in the library, alone with the smell of old, dusty books, until Alicia joined her Sunday evening. Alicia didn’t say anything, but Eleanor had a feeling she knew why she had tucked herself away.

Eleanor found pain in every little detail. The way Fred leaned in to listen to Angelina at mealtimes. The way they mixed up their ties. Fred complimenting Angelina’s Quidditch performances at practices. Their little jokes that no one else understood. Fred carrying Angelina’s books to class. Angelina letting Fred copy her homework. Eleanor used to let Fred copy her homework, but at this point she was hardly turning homework in herself. She spent too much time either watching Fred and Angelina or replaying their interactions in her head to focus on something as irrelevant as school.

Sometimes Eleanor wondered if Fred Weasley was a master manipulator, if he was just an evil little fuck. Because every time she tried to move on, he pulled her right back in. To anyone who asked, Fred would proclaim, his voice firm, that Angelina was _not_ his girlfriend. They were just having some fun. To drive the point home, he’d promise he had no intentions of ever dating Angelina. And Eleanor would hate him. She hated him because if that was true, Angelina surely had no idea. She hated him because every time he said it, she found herself hoping again. She hated him because he made her hate herself for rooting for Angelina’s downfall.

She hated him because she was in love with him. And she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be anymore. He no longer felt like her Fred. In fact, she hardly recognized the person he was becoming. She never pinned him as the heartbreak type. But Fred Weasley was bound to break Angelina’s heart and he’d already torn hers to shreds.

Merlin, she hated him.

And she loved him.

So, so much.

She ignored him at times. She joined the Defense Against the Dark Arts club with Alfie and Alicia. Lupin was the club’s mentor and for a time it provided a decent distraction. That was until Fred and Angelina joined. Then she stopped attending the meetings. So, she spent time with Iris, asking for help with Muggle Studies. Iris was Muggle-born, and she taught Eleanor a great deal. They’d go through the Muggle clothes Iris brought from home, trying them on in turn and planning a great shopping trip in London over the summer. But Iris loved to gossip and the most interesting topic of discussion for the Gryffindor fifth years was Angelina and Fred. Then Eleanor began to avoid Iris, if only to avoid hearing about Fred.

The person Eleanor missed the most was George. She took advantage of every moment in which George was without his counterpart. They’d think up things they wished Zonko’s had, dreaming about a day where they could possibly own a joke shop of their own. They’d scribble down ideas in Eleanor’s old, tattered notebook. They’d laugh about stupid things, talk about Quidditch, make fun of the professors and their friends, and make their best attempt at studying. But Fred always showed up sooner or later. And then she couldn’t find it in her to think creatively or find hope for a future down the road.

She started smoking more frequently, just so she could either spend time alone or with Lee. The two of them were the most frequent smokers in all of Gryffindor Tower and to be honest she enjoyed being able to spend time one-on-one with Lee. He was the funniest person she knew. In the end, she was the first person he told about Oliver and she loved it. She loved hearing about how Oliver and Lee snuck off to the Quidditch pitch late at night to hook up. She had never thought of Oliver as a person with romantic interests before then. He was so headstrong about Quidditch, it was hard to believe there was room in his heart for anything else. But apparently there was, although with the amount he seemed to adore Lee she was sure there was no room left. Oliver Wood’s heart beat for Quidditch and Lee Jordan and nothing else could compare.

And sometimes even that was too much. She was so insanely happy that Lee found someone who loved him the way he deserved to be loved but at the same time, she was lonely. Lonely people can only hear about how happy couples are for so long.

Angelina was in a constant state of worry over what she had done to make Eleanor avoid her. She heard about it often, from Lee or from Iris, occasionally even Alicia would bring it up breezily, as though it didn’t matter. Alfie stayed out of it, and for that she was grateful. She felt guilty, but she would feel more guilty if she snapped at Angelina over something that wasn’t her fault. This was the best course of action for both of them, whether Angelina knew it or not.

Alicia was Eleanor’s safe space. That was the one certainty Eleanor held onto. She never pried into Eleanor’s feelings about Fred. She kept whatever suspicions she had about Eleanor’s new mood to herself. She was always there. Whether it was to simply go to the library and study together or sit apart from the rest of the group at dinner, Alicia was by her side. She even missed a Hogsmeade weekend because Eleanor felt too depressed to go. She thanked the universe for the stroke of luck that placed Alicia Spinnet and Eleanor Potter into the same reality at the same time.

And she had Lupin. She spent a great deal of time in his office, avoiding her friends when everything was too much. He knew something was amiss, but he let her work it out on her own. He had this annoying habit of mentioning that James Potter used to bottle his emotions up too. That Sirius Black was the only person he’d ever let his walls fall down for. She tried to ignore the obvious comparison that her godfather was trying to make. She wondered what advice her dad would have given her. Give up or have faith?

The issue was that Fred Weasley was her Sirius Black and ignoring him seemed to hurt even more than watching him with Angelina. Fred was the one she confided in, but she couldn’t tell him this. She knew she could trust Alicia. Or Alfie. Or Lee. Even Iris, with her love of drama, would have supported her and kept this to herself. But she feared being vulnerable with anyone other than Fred and George. And she couldn’t tell Fred, so she wouldn’t tell George. She never wanted to be the one to force George to keep a secret from Fred. That felt wrong.

Sirius Black. That hurt to think about to. It had been months since she helped him escape Azkaban (alas a story for another time, although a story that must be told all the same) and he had yet to contact her. Did he not trust her? Did he think she didn’t believe him? She wondered what made him stay so far away when she knew him to be close. Both Sirius and Fred were out of reach, but only barely. It was as though they were brushing up against her fingertips, only a centimeter away from her grasp.

Back and forth she went. Avoiding and crashing back into him. Neither feeling entirely right; both feeling completely wrong. She knew which was worse. Sooner or later, she’d have to suck it up and be happy for Fred. Her life was incomplete without him, even when she was the one making the choice to be without.

It was very late. The later the hour, the worse her thoughts became. She sighed, rolling over on Iris’s bed as Iris babbled on about some rumor that was circulating Hogwarts. Alicia was kneeling before the end of the bed, her hands placed delicately on Iris’s mattress as Iris laid on her stomach painting Alicia’s nails a bright red. Eleanor laid on her back, staring at the top of the canopy. Iris’s voice was coming in and out of focus.

“And see, Eden’s really pissed because Montague said he wanted to be exclusive. But she’s pretty sure he’s been cheating on her, which like I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s a scumbag, everyone knows that. Isabella told her she couldn’t think of anyone who would even want to sleep with Montague, but I don’t think that went over well,” Iris said as she added the second coat of nail polish to Alicia’s nails.

“What do you mean?” Alicia asked.

“Well, Eden obviously wants to sleep with him, so she took offense. Honestly, if he is cheating it would be a blessing in disguise for her. He’s not what I would consider a catch.”

“Yeah, because he’s a condescending, sexist douchebag,” Eleanor pointed out, rejoining the conversation, “with a Death Eater family to match.”

“And the things he said to you last month,” Iris shook her head, “he deserved every punch Fred threw his way.”

Alicia nodded vigorously, blowing on the nails Iris had already finished to help them dry faster. Eleanor smiled to herself but quickly tried to contort her face to appear impassive. The things Montague implied about her and Lupin made her sick, but Fred’s reaction overshadowed everything else. He had been enraged on _her_ behalf. He beat Montague to a pulp for simply speaking ill of her. She felt guilty because the whole thing brought her joy. Physical violence should not bring a person joy. It is not okay to feel a rush of warmth from the thought of Montague laying bloody on the floor, Fred standing over him, quaking in anger. But it did and she was tired of pretending it didn’t.

She wondered if Fred’s reaction came from a protective instinct for her or if he was just itching to hit Montague. The minute the pair laid eyes upon each other at age eleven, they disliked each other. As the years went on, subtle dislike blossomed into an unrelenting hatred.

Which begged the question, was it her or Montague that elicited his violence? Would he have done the same if had spoken to Iris the way he spoke to Eleanor? Was it simply Fred’s instinct to confront his feelings with physical violence? Was it an issue that she found that hot? Should she be worried about her state of mind that the whole thing turned her on slightly?

_Probably._

Regardless of her constant anxiety, only positives came out of Fred attacking Montague. Eleanor and Fred’s relationship fell back into normalcy, if only for a week. Her, Fred, and George were all placed into detention together for at least another month. With no Angelina there, the hours they spent polishing trophies in the trophy room or cleaning out old classrooms were short lived bursts of happiness.

Was it problematic that she hoped Montague would say something else insulting so Fred could defend her honor even though she was perfectly capable of defending herself?

Yes.

Did she currently care?

No.

“And then Pansy Parkinson told Isabella who told Athena who told me that Parker Parkinson is cutting ties with his family. Like some kind of mutual disowning,” Iris continued, breaking Eleanor’s train of thought.

“Wait, really?” Eleanor turned over onto her stomach to look at Iris, intrigued.

“Yeah, he’s been dating Effie Yencha. They’re both in Ravenclaw and all. The problem is that Effie is a Muggle-born and the Parkinson’s are part of the sacred twenty-eight. They don’t want their only son marrying someone… someone like me,” Iris added the last part quietly before regaining her usual pep. “Of course, there are rumors that they’ve been unhappy with him since he was placed into Ravenclaw. He avoids his sister at all costs. He thinks the way she hangs around Draco and all those other boys is disgraceful since their parents were all Death Eaters.”

“Well, good for him,” Alicia said, “I’ve always liked him.”

“Yeah, me too, he seems nice enough,” Eleanor shrugged.

“I wonder if his parents will actually disown him,” Iris pondered. “He’s the one they need to carry on the family name. Maybe they’ll cave to keep him from legally change his name.”

“I guess it’ll come down to whether or not they would rather maintain their discriminatory ideals or have a relationship with their son. From what I’ve seen, most families don’t pick the latter.” Eleanor though of Sirius in that moment and she wondered what he was doing. She hoped he wasn’t hungry and cold, laying all alone in some cave in the form of a dog.

“Some must!” Iris retorted in a desperate manner.

“Most of those families are horrible blood purists that would disown their children for not replicating their views,” Alicia said quietly, “not all of course but most. The Weasleys are a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight but they don’t find any pride in it.”

“The Longbottoms too!” Eleanor added, “And the Abbotts I think.”

“What about Alfie?” Iris questioned.

“Oh, Alfie’s nothing like his family. He couldn’t care less about whether someone is a pure blood or from Muggle parentage.”

“But his family… they hate Muggle-borns?”

Alicia and Eleanor shared a fleeting look.

“His family were Death Eaters. Inner circle from the looks of it. I thought you knew that.”

“They were Death Eaters, but now they must… they said they were forced against their will!”

“They lied. Alfie admits it openly. He’s scared of them Iris.”

Iris looked away from the two girls sitting around her. She turned her head to look out the window. Eleanor realized with a pang that it was a full moon. Her thoughts fell away from Iris and landed on Lupin. She hoped he was doing okay.

“Iris…” Alicia began hesitantly, “people who think like that… they aren’t worth your time. I don’t want you-”

“It’s fine,” Iris said abruptly, turning to face Alicia as though nothing had happened, “I’m not worried about whether or not the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Crabbes, or even the Notts of the world like me. At least I’m not inbred.”

The three girls laughed, but Eleanor still felt for Iris. Out of all the Gryffindors in their year, she was the only Muggle-born. Her experiences were not the same as theirs. The way the wizarding world treated Iris did not align with the treatment of her closest friends.

“Okay but have you heard the conspiracy theory that Megara Carrow is really the incest baby of Alecto and Amycus Carrow because I actually believe it. There’s nothing more Pure-blooded than that.” Eleanor added after the laughter died out.

“Eleanor!” Alicia squealed, slapping her on the shoulder as she held back giggles of her own. Iris on the other hand was rolling with laughter, her arms clutched to her sides as she gasped for breath.

“That’s just what Fred said,” Eleanor covered her face to avoid being playfully slapped again by Alicia, “I didn’t make it up!”

“Oh, Fred told you! Then it _must_ be true,” Alicia said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. “Oh shit! Ugh, Iris I messed up my nails.”

“That’s what you get for hitting me.”

Alicia stuck out her tongue before turning back to Iris.

“It’s okay, I can redo them,” Iris managed between bursts of laughter, “but I’ll need food. Eleanor?”

“Why do I have to get the food? I’m not the one making you redo my nails.”

“Because you lost Exploding Snap last time so you’re kitchen bitch for the week. Besides, the house elves like you the best.”

“Ugh,” Eleanor groaned, lifting herself from the bed, “what do you want?”

“I would like a treacle tart,” Iris smiled, “please.”

“Oh, can you get me a bowl of rice pudding?” Alicia pleaded.

“No, none for you!” Eleanor yelled behind her as she left the dormitory and began down the staircase that led to the common room.

The common room was crowded, but her eyes still managed to find Fred Weasley as soon as stepped foot in the room. It was an annoying talent she possessed, the ability to find Fred in a room full of people. He shone brighter to her than anyone else did. He was sitting with Angelina in his lap as she popped Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans into his mouth, giggling when he coughed on the ill-tasting ones. Even if Eleanor didn’t have feelings for Fred, she would have found this behavior disgusting. Maybe it was because she was lonely, maybe it was because she was raised in a school most of her life, but PDA made her grimace.

Of course, the fact that it was Fred and Angelina made the whole thing only that much worse.

She hurried out the portrait hole before they could catch sight of her. She didn’t want them to call her over and force her to be in their presence any second longer than she had to. Fortunately, and unfortunately, Fred’s eyes never seemed to fall upon Eleanor in crowded rooms. They differed there. Eleanor always finding her eyes drawn to Fred while he seemed unaware of her every move.

Young love, how painful the sensation.

Eleanor always enjoyed the walk to the kitchens. It was a quiet pathway, straying from the main corridors that were typically full of students making their way back to their common rooms after a long day. Here, she was alone with her thoughts, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the emptiness. Every now and then, she’d run into the occasional Hufflepuff student, their common room being along the same corridor as the kitchen, but this late at night the path was usually deserted. Usually.

That night was different. She felt it in the air as soon as she made it to the bottom of the staircase hidden behind an old tapestry. The sounds of whispered voices caused her to freeze. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone, and she didn’t particularly want to. She convinced herself it was probably just a group of Hufflepuffs heading in for the night. They would leave her alone. So, she moved along, although slower now to hopefully avoid any awkward pleasantries.

After a few steps she realized she recognized one of the voices. It was George, but she couldn’t quite make out who he was talking to. She thought she had seen Lee upstairs in the common room, but she could be mistaken. Her gaze was so glued to Fred, the details of who else was there were fuzzy. Alfie was in a Wizard Chess club meeting. He may have skipped the nights meeting, but that seemed unlikely. Alfie really loved chess. She tiptoed as she tried to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“Well, she knows now, doesn’t she?” George whispered.

Eleanor craned her neck, stepping as gently as she could. Whoever George was talking to was speaking in a much softer voice. She couldn’t make out the second half of the conversation without getting closer.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter? Well, it matters to me!” George’s voice was getting louder. Eleanor could tell he was angry. “I’m not a cheater, I don’t… I don’t do this! But I made an exception for you!”

Eleanor stopped. This conversation was private, more so than she had expected. As far as Eleanor knew, George wasn’t currently seeing anyone, but this conversation made it sound like he was having some sort of an affair. If he didn’t want her to know yet, she shouldn’t.

“Don’t you even mention Eleanor!” George snapped.

Well, if he was going to drag her into it, she may as well stay and find out how she weaved her way into this conversation. She crept forward until she was at the corner of the passageway. She peaked her head around and saw the back of George’s head, but his counterpart was still hidden. She pressed her back to the wall and listened, eyes facing the wall opposite from her.

“Did you really just ask me if I would pick Eleanor over you? Of course, I would! She’s my best friend, you know that. In fact, you knew that when you humiliated her. What even was that? And now you’re trying to blame me for the mess we’re in? You did that yourself.”

Eleanor felt her stomach drop. It couldn’t be.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” the unmistakable voice of Montague rose slightly as he defended himself. “It was stupid, but your brother made me pay for that. Did you consider that at all? How your brother beat the living shit out of me? I was in the hospital wing for a week, George! Not that you came to visit me.”

“You’re the one who initially wanted everything to be a secret,” George shot back, “and I was stupid enough to go along with it. Of course, I felt bad but I’m not the one who did it. You’re the one who went after Eleanor for no reason. You started the whole thing when you knew it would hurt me.”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Montague sounded exasperated. Eleanor began to question how long they’d been having this discussion.

“You were just being cruel,” George said, “and why should I stay with someone who attacks my friends without justification?”

“Because I care about you! I do, honestly. I’ll break everything off with Eden, I’ll lay off your friends, I’ll work on it, I… we can tell people! We can do whatever you want, just forgive me! Please this last month has been miserable, don’t pretend like you haven’t felt it too.

“You think I could tell people now? You and Fred always had your shit and Eleanor goes along with everything he says-”

_Fuck you too, George._

“But now they have concrete reasons to dislike you. It would make me look like an ass to be with someone who belittles my friends.”

“Oh, because your brother is the image of love and kindness? And Eleanor Potter is far from perfect. The two of them act as though this place is their palace and we’re their jesters, always at their disposal for entertainment.”

“No, they don’t,” George’s voice was stern, “and everything you’re judging them for, I’ve been a part of too.”

“But you’re different than they are! You gave me a chance. They think they’re so accepting with their friend mudbloods and their disregard for blood status, but at the end of the day they bully and ostracize Slytherins for the hell of it.”

“Eleanor is friendly with Isabella,” George pointed out, but he sounded as though he didn’t believe his argument himself, “and it isn’t as though I’m friendly with any Slytherin students other than you.” 

Montague snorted. “So that’s what we are? _Friendly_?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe you should stop considering what your friends want for you and figure out what you want for yourself because we both know the truth. We want the same thing, George. We want to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” George sighed, walking toward where Eleanor stood. She held her breath and closed her eyes, believing like a child that if she didn’t see him, he wouldn’t see her.

“Wait! You can’t just leave and refuse to speak to me again for another month. Meet me at the astronomy tower tomorrow night at nine. Please, I’m begging you.”

There was silence and then Eleanor was sure she heard them kiss. She opened her eyes, tempted to gaze around the corner to confirm her suspicions. Instead, she glued her eyes to the paintings on the wall across from her. Every painting in the kitchen corridor seemed to contain some kind of food on it. She watched as some warlocks fought over who would eat the last piece of pie.

And then footsteps. She held her breath again but kept her eyes open. Montague must have walked down the corridor in the opposite direction because George appeared alone. For a fraction of a second she thought George would continue to walk right past her. He stopped at the last moment, turning to stare at her head on.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, neither knowing what to say. Eleanor was having difficulty determining her emotions about the situation. On one hand, George defended her. On the other hand, he was engaging in some kind of relationship with the asshole who had insulted not only herself, but Lupin and her father. And that was entirely unacceptable.

All of Montague’s transgressions flashed through her mind. She could hear him calling Iris a mudblood. The first person to ever call Iris a mudblood. The way he spoke about Muggle-born wizards and witches, even now when speaking to George. How he made fun of Lupin’s clothes. The classism he displayed on a regular basis. He was cheating on Eden, making her feel worthless and lonely. Eleanor knew that feeling.

Eleanor was angry, she knew it now.

“Did you…” George started, looking horribly uncomfortable.

“Did I what? Hear that you’ve been shacking up with _him_? Yeah, I did,” she answered coolly.

“I can explain-”

“Explain what? That you know he’s a bad person but _he’s different for you._ What a load of bullshit,” Eleanor spat. “I didn’t hear you tell him to knock it off when he started talking about Muggle-borns. I won’t even repeat the word he used.”

George stared at her. She knew he couldn’t possibly defend himself.

“What’s Fred going to say, huh? When he finds out that you’ve been sleeping with the guy who has been bullying of our friends for the past five years! And you’re a cheater! He’s with Eden, George. You’re better than that, you are so much better than that. I can’t believe you!”

“Fred is not going to find out,” George shot back, fear in his voice, “and I haven’t been with him since he said those things about you! I swear it.”

“Oh, so if it’s me it crosses the line, but it’s okay if it’s Muggle-borns. I guess you’re also looking past the fact that he comes from a family of Death Eaters. Do you even know the things they’ve been accused of?”

“I’m not looking past it!”

“But it obviously isn’t a deal breaker.”

“You hang around Malfoy!” George yelled desperately.

“I do not _hang around_ with Draco. I help him from time to time but that’s very different than sleeping with him. You know what Draco and I have been through together.”

“And I’ve been through things with Montague! It’s… he… please let me explain.”

“I don’t need to hear you explain to me that you can’t control who you love. I get it, but your brain should kick in and tell you that dating a blood-purist asshole is the wrong thing to do.”

Eleanor turned the corner. She wanted to get to the kitchen, get Iris and Alicia their desserts and then head straight back to the common room. She needed to tell Fred. He would talk some sense into George.

“You can’t tell Fred,” George pleaded, as though reading her mind.

“Why not? I can’t lie to him.”

George snorted.

“What?”

“You lie to him every day! You think I haven’t noticed how you look at him? You’ve been avoiding him ever since you found out he was shagging Angelina!”

Great, he had been with Angelina longer than she even knew.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell I do! You won’t tell him about me, because I haven’t told him about you.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“No,” George said hastily, “you’re my best friend, so I keep it to myself because it’s what you want. I’m your best friend. You may be _in love_ with Fred, but _I’m_ your best friend. And you’ll do this for me because you love me.”

Eleanor stared at him, every possible comeback playing through her mind. She wanted to tell him she would tell Fred _because_ she was George’s best friend but a part of her understood George’s plight. He didn’t know what to do. He loved Eleanor and Fred, but he was in love Montague. She could see it now. It wasn’t some stupid thing. George Weasley loved Graham Montague.

“I won’t say anything if you don’t go see him tomorrow night,” she declared, although she avoided eye contact as she said it. “Break it off and I’ll keep this to myself.”

The next day she could hardly focus on anything other than George and Montague. She was much less angry now but she was still having difficulty wrapping her head around the whole thing. Was she proving Montague’s point by forcing George to end his relationship? Was she picking on Slytherin students? And more importantly, did it even bother her that she disliked the majority of Slytherin house on principle alone?

At first the answer was no. She thought of Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Alfie’s parents, Bellatrix Lestrange, and every Death Eater locked away in Azkaban. Voldemort was sorted Slytherin for crying out loud.

But then her mind drifted to Peter Pettigrew. A Gryffindor. A Gryffindor she hated more than she hated almost anyone else on that list. She believed him to have been a Death Eater. The Death Eater that sold out her parents to Voldemort. Not that anyone believed her. 

And that's when she knew she was wrong. Every house was a mixed bag; some good, some bad, some falling somewhere in between. She hoped she fell into the good, but she felt hypocritical for generalizing all of Slytherin house the way Montague generalized Muggles. She refused to be like Montague. He was one of the bad ones, that she was sure of. What she wasn’t sure of was if she needed to force George to see it or let him figure it out on his own. The consequences of either course of action felt disastrous. Everything feels disastrous to a sixteen-year-old.

When nine o’clock came around that night, Eleanor sat in the common room with the rest of her friends. Fred and Angelina were behaving for the night, keeping a whole couch cushion between them. George shot her a fearful glance after hearing the clock chime. She knew in that moment he had decided Montague was worth the wrath Fred would bring about. He stood up, holding his breath as he did so.

“Where are you going, Georgie?” Fred asked absentmindedly, his quill flipping between his fingers as he copied Angelina’s Charms essay.

George looked at Eleanor, afraid to speak.

“He’s going to the kitchen,” Eleanor found herself saying, “he’s kitchen bitch.”

“I thought you were this week,” Fred said, brow furrowed.

“I was, but George lost a bet,” Eleanor shrugged, “so now he’s the kitchen bitch for the rest of the year. Actually, he’s kitchen bitch until we leave this place.”

“Damn Georgie,” Fred laughed, “well if you’re going can you have the House Elves whip up a fruit cake for everyone.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eleanor could hear the relief in George’s voice. She was sure that if she had looked up he would have been smiling at her, thanking her with his eyes. But she kept her eyes glued to her textbook, pretending to be immersed in Magical History for the first time in her life. She wasn’t sure how she felt about helping George sneak around with Montague.

Shortly after George left, Angelina climbed onto Fred’s lap, giggling up a storm. The combination of George and Fred’s separate relationships proved to be a burden too heavy to bear and she excused herself for the night. She fell asleep with tears still running down her cheeks.


	22. Quidditch Flops

April 1994. Fifth year. Everything always seemed to fall back to fifth year.

Eleanor liked playing Quidditch. It was fun. A good excuse as to why she was behind on her homework. She wasn’t Harry though; she didn’t love it with every fiber of her being. She wasn’t excellent either. She believed her father’s genes popped up to make her just good enough to steal a spot on the Gryffindor Team. It would explain why the only position she was any decent at was Chaser. James Potter had been a Chaser too, although he had been a rather amazing player. She hoped the fact that she had made the team at all would have made him proud. She’d consistently beaten Katie Bell out of the spot for the last three years and that was enough of an accomplishment for her.

Alicia and Angelina were both far superior Chasers. Alicia surprised everyone with her ability on the Quidditch field. For whatever reason, the boys couldn’t fathom how a girl who appeared so bookish could excel athletically. Lee antagonized Alicia the entire week before tryouts their second year.

“Charlie isn’t going to ask you how many books you’ve read on the subject of Quidditch,” he jabbed, “he doesn’t care about your strategical analysis of the game. Can you even fly a broom?”

“I’m sure she can fly a broom, Lee,” Fred remarked, “she’ll fly herself right into the goalposts.”

But Alicia was competitive. She’d beat you out for the top exam grade in Transfiguration and then beat Slytherin out on the field. The day of tryouts she put up the most points out of any student trying out for the position of Chaser and to Lee’s disbelief, Charlie Weasley was incredibly interested in Alicia’s strategical analyses. She was Charlie’s first pick.

His second choice was Angelina. She simply had natural talent, there was no other way to put it. She might have scored higher than Alicia if she had been expecting her to be any competition. And she _loved_ Quidditch. It was a slight obsession with her. She knew every player, every statistic , every broom type, the layout of every stadium in the entirety of the British and Irish Quidditch League. To anyone who asked her of her aspirations after Hogwarts, her replies always landed on Quidditch. She wanted to play in the major leagues. If not play, commentate. If not commentate, then coach. If she couldn’t do any of that she’d settle for working in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. But mainly, she wanted to play. It was all she really wanted.

His third choice for Chaser was some bloke a year ahead of them named Milo McLaggen. He would have gotten the spot if Fred hadn’t smashed a Bludger into McLaggen’s head, giving him a nasty concussion along with a newfound fear of the game.

Fred’s actions paved the way for Charlie’s fourth pick to make the team which just so happened to be Eleanor. Fred swore up and down that the whole McLaggen/Bludger incident was simply a stupid accident, but no one believed him. It was all too coincidental that Fred’s best friend made the team due to his “negligence.” Rumors brewed that Fred and Charlie conspired together to secure Eleanor a spot on the team.

 _Charlie’s always favored her,_ they whispered, _and I wouldn’t put anything past Fred and George Weasley._

_Maybe they hope she’ll end up like her dad, I hear he was amazing._

_Well, I saw her play at tryouts, and she wasn’t all that._

_Everything with her always boils down to favoritism._

Fred probably should have been kicked out of tryouts for friendly fire, but the fact remained that the twins were insanely talented Beaters. The boys liked to hit things. Smacking the shit out of a flying ball in the air was right up their alley. Eleanor often wondered if she would have made a decent Beater if the twins didn’t always demand the position when they played for fun. She too found it quite enjoyable to hit things.

Charlie Weasley ended up with a team consisting entirely of twelves year old shitheads, along with a fourteen-year-old Oliver Wood playing Keeper. Charlie was to be replaced the very next year by a scrawny eleven-year-old with the eyesight of an elderly woman. The eleven-year-old somehow ended up a better seeker than the great Charlie Weasley, even though he couldn’t make out his own hands without glasses. Life’s funny that way.

After Harry joined the team, Oliver Wood was sure they had a win coming their way. But it had been three years, and they had yet to secure the Quidditch Cup under his captainship. This year would be Wood’s last chance to win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup. If the school didn’t play host to any version of Voldemort for the year, they had a chance of winning and it was driving Wood mad. Eleanor genuinely feared for Oliver’s mental well-being if they lost.

“Pass it here Eleanor!” Alicia called from Eleanor’s right. Eleanor did as she was told, throwing the ball to Alicia before pulling back on her Firebolt abruptly. They were practicing a new Chaser formation, one in which Eleanor’s abrupt stop was sure to cause at least one of the defenders trailing her to crash into her. Wood decided it was a small price to pay if it lessened even one defender from Alicia’s path.

“Good Alicia! Good Eleanor! That was better, but I still think the Firebolt will allow a quicker stop if you let it,” Oliver yelled to the pair from where he hovered at the goalposts.

“If I stop any faster, I think I might fall off the end of my broom,” Eleanor grumbled, knowing she was going to be forced to practice the same move at least another ten times. It was starting to make her nauseous.

“This time can you try turning to the side as you stop? That could take two defenders out at once if you’re being trailed by multiple opponents,” Oliver continued as though he had not heard her. She supposed it was likely that he hadn’t heard her. His one-track mind only allowed him to hear positive affirmations and ‘yes sirs’.

It was mind-boggling how such a care-free soul like Lee ended up with anxiety-ridden, rule following, Quidditch crazed Oliver Wood. They were an unlikely pair. There were a lot of unlikely couples cropping up suddenly. Eleanor looked quickly over at George, who was pointing out places to aim the Bludgers that were cutting across the pitch. She thought of Montague and frowned.

“Eleanor? Are you ready? You can’t be watching what other players are doing during the game! This is serious business, you know the formation, now execute it!” Wood shouted.

“He’s in a mood,” Alicia whispered as she moved closer to Eleanor, tossing the ball softly back to her. Eleanor shrugged, shoving George and Montague out of her mind.

Again, she passed to Alicia and halted abruptly, this time turning her broom to the left rather than upward to perform the stop. Although the broom stopped, her body continued moving and she was forced to flip around her broom once. She felt a headache coming on.

“That was a much faster stop! Much better Eleanor! And good shot on goal Alicia!” Wood bellowed, clapping enthusiastically. “Okay, let’s do it again but this time Eleanor try to remain upright on your broom!”

“I am trying to remain upright on my broom!” Eleanor snapped.

“Well, try harder!”

Eleanor reminded herself that she truly did like Oliver. She thought him a good guy, a great boyfriend to her friend, a devoted team captain. But Merlin was he annoying her. Angelina, not needing to participate in this particular formation practice, spent her free time laughing as Fred repeatedly smashed a Bludger into the Slytherin emblem on the right side of the stadium, which didn’t help Eleanor’s mood.

“Okay, get on with it, girls!”

Again, she performed the same maneuver, her body falling sideways yet again only this time she caught herself by slightly titling the opposite way from which she was falling. She felt her abdominals burn at the exertion it took to keep upright when her body wanted so badly to fall off the broom. They went again and again and again. Her head pounded from the constant stop and go.

“Okay, we will do this formation five more times and then, as long as I deem the attempts acceptable, we’ll move on. Oi, Angelina! You hear that, you’re almost up,” Oliver directed his attention at Angelina, who was now practicing beating Bludgers as the twins watched. She was pretty good at it, which was understandable. Angelina was good at everything Quidditch.

“That’s not a good use of time,” Oliver quipped, realizing the twins weren’t practicing but rather watching Angelina zip around smacking Bludgers in every direction.

“We’ve been practicing for an hour now! I think we may have the hang of it Wood!” George called back.

“Do you want us to start flinging them at you all? I think I can land one right on your forehead, Wood!” Fred yelled with a laugh.

“Soon we’ll practice dodging Bludgers and you can aim them for whoever’s forehead you damn well please,” Oliver frowned as he scanned the skies for Harry. “Potter! Harry! Sorry I forget you’re both Potter. How many times have you caught the Snitch?”

“Five,” Harry called back as he breezed by above their hands. Eleanor smiled up at him. Her favorite thing about Quidditch was watching her brother enjoy himself. It seemed like the only time he was ever truly free of his worries.

“Good, great, let’s get to ten,” Oliver replied. Eleanor groaned as she exchanged a quick glance with Angelina. They were going to be there all night. “Okay, do it again you two.”

Alicia lightly passed Eleanor the Quaffle. Eleanor tucked the ball under her arm and pushed forward. She threw the Quaffle to the right, a perfect arch to Alicia’s waiting hands. She turned her Firebolt to the side, pulling upward on the broom to break and tilting her body to the left so she didn’t flip over the broom to her right. The familiar feeling of her head aching was back, along with her nauseous. She was in mid-stop when a Bludger hit her directly in the stomach.

If she hadn’t been mid-stop, if she hadn’t been stopping as quickly as Oliver wanted, if her head wasn’t already pounding, she could have saved herself. Yes, a Bludger to the stomach will always hurt. The air is pushed out of a person’s lungs with such violent force, it feels as though one may never catch another breath. The bile and food in the stomach, pushed back through the esophagus so that the Bludger’s victim can’t tell if they’re choking on the air that abandoned their lungs or their lunch. After a few experiences, it becomes something a person can handle. They give themselves a quick reminder that no, this isn’t death. Pull up quickly on the broom handle and avoid a fall. But this time, Eleanor wasn’t ready.

Her hands slipped off the Firebolts sleek handle, whether due to sweat, the new shine of the broom, or pure shock, she wasn’t sure. She felt the Bludger push her back off the broom and she was free-falling. It didn’t feel slow nor graceful. She saw the sky as she fell. And then the grass. And then the sky again. There wasn’t enough time to form a last thought. She just knew she didn’t want to die. It wasn’t the time. She was still looking at the sky when she felt her back slam into the ground. A sudden burst of pain shot through her body before everything was eradicated from sight. No thoughts. No world. Nothing but blackness. 

The next thing her brain registered was pain. She felt pain everywhere. Her stomach hurt from where the Bludger made contact but her back hurt worse. A horrible thought flew through her mind and she curled her toes quickly to check if she was paralyzed. She thought she felt her toes move underneath a thick blanket, but she needed to see it for herself.

Her eyes opened slowly. Her senses were taking a minute to catch up to her which she attributed to the extreme pain she was in. Everything was dark, but as her eyes adjusted, she vaguely made out the shapes of other beds. The room reeked of a sharp, metal smell. It was the kind of smell one would associate with cleaner. Her mind was foggy, and it took her a few minutes before she was able to piece together where she was.

The hospital wing. Duh. Where the hell else would she be?

She moved her hand to pull the blanket off her legs. She had to see her toes curling to believe it. The small movement, her hand moving slightly, caused a bolt of pain to run throughout her arm and she groaned. A figure rose to her right, roused by the sound of her agony. Whatever pain potion she was given was impacting her processing speed. She would have yelled out at the sudden appearance if her brain allowed her to assess her surroundings, but there was some block there. She stared at the figure as she slowly caught up.

“You’re awake? Oh, thank Merlin. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

The words took a minute to make sense. She swallowed down another jolt of pain as she tried to move herself into an upright position.

“Fred?” Her voice sounded groggy as she spoke each word slowly, “Am I paralyzed?”

“No, no, of course not but just stay lying down. Madam Pomfrey said you’re going to be in a world of pain so just lie still.” He pushed her gently back down as she craned her neck to look at him more closely, eliciting another wince of pain. “I’m sorry did I hurt you?”

She shook her head softly, but even that motion was far too much. She wondered how much pain she would be in without the pain potion Madam Pomfrey must have given her. She didn’t want to imagine it.

“You’re still in your Quidditch robes,” she croaked, “shouldn’t you change?”

“It’s fine,” Fred whispered, “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey. She tried to send me back to Gryffindor Tower hours ago, but I snuck back in,” he said as he leaned closer to her to speak even softer still.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Eleanor muttered.

Fred smiled at her softly, the moonlight from the window illuminating his face ever so lightly. He brushed her hair off her face, his thumb moving back and forth gently across her forehead. The simple act soothed a small dose of her pain.

“I’m so sorry, Ella,” Fred moved his face so that his chin could rest on the edge of her pillow as he continued to brush her hair back with his hand, “I am so, so sorry.”

Eleanor’s brow furrowed as she tried to sit back up again. Fred draped his free arm across her stomach to keep her from moving. He shook his head as he twirled a piece of her hair. Her mind felt like mush and it was no longer from the potion.

“Sorry?” she mumbled.

“It’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the word _fault_ as his forehead came to rest at the crook of her neck, “I let Angelina play Beater and that Bludger… I should have hit that Bludger before it came anywhere near you.”

“It’s not your fault. Happens sometimes.”

“When you fell, I was so scared,” she could barely hear him at this point as the pillow muffled his voice, “if something terrible happened… never forgive myself.”

“I’m alive,” was the best response she could muster, the muck in her brain was making thinking difficult.

Fred looked up, resting his chin once more on the pillow. The arm he had draped across her stomach moved so he could caress her cheek lightly. Her heart fluttered. She wanted to move her hand to cradle his face, but the attempt brought more pain than she expected. She bit down on her lip to keep from groaning.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just lay with me,” the words tumbled out before she could stop them, but the usual embarrassment that came with such speech never followed. She blamed the potion.

Fred nodded, moving Eleanor ever so slightly to make room on the small hospital bed. Every tiny shift of her body felt as though she were being stabbed directly in her nerve endings with a sharp, jagged piece of glass. She endured it knowing that Fred being beside her would ease her suffering, if only slightly. He slid his shoes off, keeping his socks on, and pulled the blanket carefully up to let himself in. One of his legs bumped into hers as he climbed into the bed and pain radiated through her body so sharply, she let out a small whimper.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he laid on his side with his hand acting as a pillow for his head. She didn’t think he had much space with her laying on her back, but it hurt too much to move. She felt a twinge of guilt before the potion muddled the feeling. His free hand moved to play with her hair again.

“I have one job,” he muttered, staring at the piece of hair he was twirling around his finger, “keep the Bludgers away from my team. Angelina never should have… I shouldn’t….”

“Not your fault,” Eleanor said sleepily, “not her fault.”

“I lost my mind on her, Ella. She was crying and I was screaming because you got hurt. You looked so pale and broken and I was so mad. You would have been pissed if you heard me. I kept telling myself to stop but… sometimes its hard when it’s about you.”

Fred had said too many words, she couldn’t process the half of them. She was vaguely aware that he mentioned yelling at Angelina, but the rest was lost in translation, her brain refusing to create a conscious understanding.

“Not nice,” she muttered, “not her fault.”

“I know.”

“You… and her,” Eleanor felt sleep closing in around her as she forced the words out, “always together. I miss you.”

Fred didn’t say anything for a moment. He continued idly twirling pieces of her hair; his eyes fixed away from her face. She closed her eyes, allowing the tiredness she felt to pull her away. At least in sleep she wouldn’t be in so much pain.

“I think I got my priorities mixed up,” Fred whispered suddenly, Eleanor’s eyes fighting to reopen at the sound of his voice, “but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can go look for Sirius or we can come up with new inventions or we can prank the Slytherins, I don’t care. We can do whatever you want. Anything.”

“Sounds nice,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering open and shut repeatedly as she fought sleep. Fred’s breath was hot on cheek as he leaned his forehead to rest against her temple.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, “we can talk in the morning.”

“Mhm.”

“Sweet dreams.”

In the moments before sleep, she felt her confusion grow as her mind combined her sleepy thoughts and her actual surroundings. She thought at one point she felt his lips kiss the top of her forehead before coming to rest somewhere close to her cheek but by the time it registered, she was tucked away in a dream.


	23. An Unlikely Alliance

_Eleanor,_

_Everything is fine here. You are very missed._

_Your birthday is coming up next month. I see it falls on the Wednesday before the second Hogsmeade weekend. We should meet then to celebrate. Maybe The Three Broomsticks, maybe somewhere else._

_Write back soon by reliable means._

_Remus_

“Who’s it from?” Iris asked, leaning across the table to peek at the letter in Eleanor’s hand. The end of her long, blonde hair fell into her butter plate.

“Professor Lupin,” Eleanor said simply. She folded the letter into a square and pocketed it before Iris could read it. Not that Iris could have gained any insight from the letter. Lupin had been incredibly careful with his wording incase it were to fall into the wrong hands.

“I always forget he’s your godfather,” Iris remarked. She threw her hair back over her shoulder, butter tangling a few of the strands. Even if Iris were to remove the butter now, the end of her hair would be sticky for the rest of the day. Sticky and crunchy. It was going to drive her mad.

“He’s just asking about my birthday,” Eleanor motioned to Iris’s buttered hair, “wants to meet at Hogsmeade that weekend.”

“Speaking of Hogsmeade,” Iris was rubbing her hair viciously with her napkin as she spoke, “we haven’t talked about your brother’s little meeting yet. Nor the fact that Umbridge disbanded all school organizations.”

“Don’t get me started,” Angelina raged. She slammed her fork and knife on the table, abandoning her breakfast. One could not simply eat and speak of Umbridge simultaneously. It was unfathomable.

“You realize that includes Quidditch, right? We don’t have a team as of right now. I went to Umbridge straight away and she wouldn’t allow the team to reform. That wicked, joy-stealing wench told me she’d have to think about it. She hates us! It’s not fair, the Quidditch team hasn’t done anything wrong. I never would have gone to the Hogs Head this weekend if I knew it would cost us Quidditch! If she somehow found out about,” Angelina lowered her voice, “Saturday’s meeting then why didn’t she just outlaw _new_ clubs?”

“For control,” Eleanor replied dully. She pushed her eggs around on her plate as the weight of blame fell upon her, heavy and foul. Eleanor knew this was coming. Harry Potter, the apparent ringleader of a children’s rebellion. Harry Potter, the creator of a group that dismantled every other organization in Hogwarts. Harry and Eleanor Potter, forever intertwined by tragedy and a last name, their separate sins indifferentiable to many. Blame followed the Potters wherever they went.

“No offense Ang, but I think this defense group is more important than Quidditch right now,” Alicia said gently. “It’s time we prepare ourselves for what’s outside these walls.”

“I _know_ it is,” Angelina relented with a sigh, “but it isn’t fair.”

“What are you lot going on about?” Fred asked as he and George plopped themselves down at the table on either side of Eleanor, each carrying a broomstick. Fred grabbed a piece of toast before turning to sit the opposite way, surveying the Great Hall.

“Why the hell are you two carrying your brooms around? Haven’t you heard-”

“Yes Angelina, we’re aware that all teams and clubs have been disbanded,” Fred replied with a mouth full of toast.

“You’d have to be deaf not to know that,” George added, “it’s the talk of the day.”

“I asked Umbridge for permission to reform but she wouldn’t give it!” Angelina complained.

“Well, try harder,” George said with a shrug.

“I am trying! The problem is Harry’s on the team and that woman hates Harry. If I replaced him maybe we would get permission, but then we wouldn’t win. I’ve already considered it. No offense, Eleanor,” Angelina glanced quickly in Eleanor’s direction, “but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few.”

_Blame, Blame, Blame._

“Doesn’t really matter, I won’t do it. Harry’s talent speaks for itself. There’s no point in playing if we won’t win and we need Harry to win.” Angelina turned back to her breakfast, digging in once more. One-track Quidditch mind, just like Oliver Wood. They bred Quidditch Captains differently in Gryffindor. Win or die trying.

“Why do you have your brooms with you?” Alicia pointed at the brooms with her fork, reiterating Angelina’s original question.

“We thought if we showed Umbridge our flying ability in the middle of the Great Hall, she’ll have to bring the team back,” George said.

Alicia said nothing. She continued to stare at the twins, unamused.

“The rules of Assassins clearly state that you cannot stun your target if they are on a broomstick,” Fred answered after a moment, “hence the broomstick.”

“Don’t you think you might be taking this whole thing a bit too seriously,” Alicia said, brows furrowed.

“Says the one who’s already been eliminated.”

“By you!”

“Yes, by me. I have no regrets. My needs outweigh your needs.”

“Fred, you will not be flying that broomstick anywhere inside this castle! Neither will you George! If Umbridge catches you two flying around the castle, looking like idiots, she will never reinstate the team!” Angelina abandoned her breakfast once more. Eating and reprimanding didn’t mesh either apparently.

“You worry too much Angelina. Just go over her head to Dumbledore for permission or something.”

“You’re starting to sound like Wood,” George commented as he ate the eggs Eleanor had given up on off her plate.

“I think I finally understand why Wood was so stressed all the time! Managing you lot is going to lead me to an early grave! I swear you’re all going to give me an aneurysm, especially you two-”

“I think the broom idea is really smart actually,” Iris interjected, “is there a spare I could carry around, just in case?”

“Iris!”

“What, I’m just saying! That way even if you get stunned you stay in the game and your Assassin is disqualified! I get it, you’re like super invested in Quidditch, but I’m not on the team so it doesn’t really impact my life-”

The bickering continued but Eleanor tuned it out. Quidditch, Assassins, Quidditch, Assassins. She got the gist. Assassins would win out over Quidditch to everyone but Angelina. She didn’t need to pay attention to follow the conversation.

The Great Hall was in a frenzy. Students of different houses were congregating in small circles, trying to discuss the best course of action for whatever club they had previously belonged to just the night before. Alfie was in a heated discussion with a group at the Ravenclaw table who she assumed to be the Wizard Chess team. Montague on the other hand was writing a letter, his quill moving at the speed of light. It appeared as though his parents were finally going to receive that Anti-Umbridge letter he had threatened. Every student was throwing disgruntled looks to the head of the room where Umbridge sat enjoying her breakfast.

The consensus was unanimous - Fuck that bitch.

Eleanor’s eyes fell back upon the Slytherin table where Montague was writing furiously. She wondered what club he was so angry about being dismantled. He was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but he was also the Head of the Potions Club, the debate team, and the Wizard Heritage club (which was essentially a club that boasted Pure-blood ideologies under the guise of respecting and upholding ancestry). He threw his quill down on the table, straightened his tie, and pushed himself up from the table. She watched as he walked across the hall, head held high with the air of great importance. He passed by a pale boy with hair so blonde one could almost consider it white. Draco.

“I’ll be right back,” Eleanor said, a sudden reckless inspiration taking hold of her.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked, but she ignored him. He wouldn’t approve, he’d already told her as much.

She moved past the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, the chatter of irritation following her.

“It’s a violation of our rights.”

“Regular gatherings of more than three students? We gather every night in our dormitory, can we not sleep now?”

“More than three? She must not have many friends.”

“Since the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks Believers Society is only the two of us, we don’t need permission to reform,” the soft voice of Luna Lovegood could be overheard as Eleanor passed by the head of the Ravenclaw table. She hadn’t been aware of such a club before that day. It sounded more interesting than half the clubs everyone else was complaining about.

“Crabbe, Goyle, leave,” Eleanor demanded, facing Draco Malfoy, who sat with a clean, empty plate placed squarely in front of him. The two boys looked at Draco for direction, their faces furrowed in frustration at being spoken to in such a manner by anyone other than the blonde boy. Draco considered Eleanor for a minute, his face lacking any sign of curiosity, before sitting a little taller in his seat.

“Leave,” Draco echoed, his friends looking slightly crestfallen. His two cronies stood up from the bench, ever so slowly, before stalking off, shooting backward glances at Draco every other step.

“You should eat,” Eleanor settled herself onto the bench across from Draco and nodded her head at his empty plate, “you look even more sickly pale than usual.”

“Thanks for the concern.”

Draco looked bored, per usual. He always looked bored. Unless he was off tormenting Harry or some other students, then he looked absolutely gleeful.

“I can’t help you,” he continued, “I have nothing to say about the Dark Lord-”

“I’m not here to talk to you about Voldemort.”

“You shouldn’t say his name,” Draco hissed, looking around the table to make sure no one overheard her.

“Oh no, am I going to implode on the spot?” Eleanor rolled her eyes. She leaned forward, laying her arms on the table, hands clasped together as though she were a professor talking to an unruly student.

“You have no respect,” Draco muttered, “if you aren’t here to shame me about… what do you want?”

“To catch up,” Eleanor smiled, “gossip. Tell me, have Crabbe and Goyle managed to create an original thought yet? Oh, even better still, what’s going on between you and Pansy?”

The shadow of a smile appeared on Draco’s lips. “I never said Crabbe and Goyle were worth much.”

“That’s no way to speak of your friends.”

“I wouldn’t consider them friends,” Draco fidgeted with the sleeve of his robes, “they’re more… necessities.”

“How sweet.”

“What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything?”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. How close are you to the seventh-year Slytherins?”

“Not very,” Draco perked up, his bored expression flickering with interest, “Isabella talks too much. Montague thinks he’s superior to everyone when he isn’t even a true Pure-blood Wizard. His family tree is littered with Mudbloods-”

“Don’t say that word!”

“You dare mutter the Dark Lord’s name but not Mudblood? Who’s scared of a silly, little word now?”

“I’m not scared of the word, just disgusted by it.”

“It’s only a descriptive word.”

“And Voldemort is just a name.”

The pair stared at one another, the usual roadblock of their relationship cropping up. Eventually, Draco gave way, his stubbornness wearing off. He wasn’t as committed to his cause as Eleanor was to hers.

“Anyway, Montague is nothing special, but he loves to play king. Eden’s an idiot. Adrian is a good quidditch player, but that’s about it. He’s nothing special but the difference is he knows it. He’s got a Muggle dad for fucks sake. The rest are simply unremarkable. My parents have ties to Noah Clarke’s parents, but that family isn’t quite up to par. They’re almost there though.”

_Almost Death Eaters._

“Between me and them, where do your loyalties lie?”

Draco cocked his head, surveying her with confusion and curiosity. Hufflepuffs valued loyalty but the Sorting Hat never considered Hufflepuff for Eleanor nor Draco. Loyalty was a fickle thing. Such a simple, but elastic, component to life that required a trusting nature neither possessed. Instead, Gryffindors and Slytherins held tendencies that allotted a superiority complex. The difference being that Gryffindor’s followed a sense of group supremacy while Slytherin’s were on a path of individuality. They’d cling together unless they were given an opportunity to shine on their own. Draco’s loyalty could be bought.

“Depends,” Draco said after a moment, the word drawn out as he considered his options. “What’s your proposition?”

“I need your help, but I can’t explain unless I know I can trust you.”

“You can’t trust me.” Draco allowed no outward expression of emotion at his statement. It was a fact they were both aware of. There was no need to skirt around the issue.

“I’m aware that I can’t trust you in general,” Eleanor pulled a basket of fruit on the table closer so she could plop a berry in her mouth, “but I believe I can trust you enough for a small task.”

“Such as?”

“Assassins.” She threw another berry in her mouth.

“You want me to help you take out your target?” Draco lowered his voice. That was a good sign. He was already acting secretive.

“Something like that.”

“You have a Slytherin target?”

“Maybe.”

Draco drummed his fingers against the table, his piercingly blue eyes surveying Eleanor with greater interest. The Great Hall was beginning to clear out, the Slytherin table almost completely empty. Slytherins and their ambition, always the first ones in line at the door for class. Never late. Unless you were Draco Malfoy and your superiority complex put you above such formalities.

“What’s in it for me? Why should I help you over my housemates?”

“For old times sake.”

No response.

“I’ll write your name in the book,” Eleanor’s dropped all pretenses. She was growing tired of messing with him. “Draco Malfoy will be written in the Assassin’s record for a year he didn’t even compete in. How did Eleanor Potter acquire her first target? Oh look, Draco Malfoy was the mastermind! How interesting.”

Draco smiled, his pointed face lighting up at the mention of even the slightest hint of notoriety. Hook, line, and sink. 

“There’s a Slytherin party this Friday in the common room,” Draco whispered, leaning his head in so only Eleanor could hear. “It’s supposed to be Slytherin’s only, but I’ve heard a few Ravenclaws are invited. It won’t be a huge shock if you and a few friends showed your face. We always get some party crashers.”

“Wait until the party is in full swing, people will be drunk, guards down. Password for the night will be Mudbloods. Montague is hoping it’ll keep out unwanted guests.”

Eleanor frowned. She hated Montague.

“If you tell me who your target is, I’ll make sure they’re extra out of it. Spike a drink, pressure them into a game of Switch Cup, whatever you want.”

“Unbreakable Vow.”

“You’re joking,” Draco scoffed, looking mildly offended. He had been the one to mention his own untrustworthiness a few moments prior, but now he was expecting a mutual understanding.

“Trust issues,” Eleanor shrugged, plastering a toothy smile on her face, “all that nonsense with Peter Pettigrew. Or do you call him Wormtail? I called him Uncle Wormy.”

Draco’s face pinkened slightly, caught off guard by the mention of Pettigrew. “He’s only staying at the manor for the time being,” Draco mumbled, “he isn’t treated well by me.”

“Good, I encourage the poor treatment of traitorous bastards. Anyway, Unbreakable Vow?”

“We’d need another person to be the bonder, and if you won’t trust me how can you possibly-”

“Oi, FRED!” Eleanor called, waving Fred to the Slytherin table. Fred raised an eyebrow before hopping off the bench, broom in hand.

“Of course, a Weasley,” Draco muttered.

“Hello, Fred,” Eleanor said brightly.

“Hello, Eleanor,” Fred glanced at Draco with disdain before settling himself next to Eleanor.

“Draco here has so graciously offered to help me stun my target,” Eleanor motioned to Draco, who was wearing a look of the upmost displeasure on his face, “but I need some extra assurance. A vow of sorts.”

Fred smiled sinisterly, catching on. He shifted in his seat and grabbed a large basket of bread to block the professors’ view of Eleanor and Draco’s hands. He glanced once more at Umbridge before turning back to the pair.

“I don’t want to,” Draco said defiantly.

“Why not Malfoy? There’s no reason to worry if you’re truly willing to help us,” Fred’s expression dripped of condescension, the smallest of smiles set on his freckled face. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? You die?”

“Don’t be a bitch, just do it,” Eleanor whined.

“He won’t do it,” Fred egged on, “he’s not man enough.”

“Fine,” Draco thrusted his hand out in front of him. Eleanor noticed he was shaking slightly. She felt an ounce of remorse before tucking the emotion away. She needed this.

Eleanor grasped his hand, smiling genuinely as she did so. Draco rolled his eyes and heaved a deep breath. They both looked to Fred, waiting for him to complete the ritual. Fred pulled his wand out of his robe pocket, placing the tip of it to Draco and Eleanor’s interlocked hands.

“Will you Draco, promise not to inform anyone or anything in any way of Eleanor’s Assassin target or plan?”

Draco paused, looking Eleanor in the eye. They were connected, whether or not they wanted to be. She knew in that moment she didn’t need an unbreakable vow for him to keep his word. At least not on this matter.

“I will,” he said at last.

A blast of red shot from Fred’s wand, appearing as though a red-hot wire were locking Draco and Eleanor together. After a moment, the red wires disappeared, and the spell was complete.

“Louis Wright,” Eleanor whispered, letting go of Draco’s hand and moving to pat his shoulder once. “Thanks a bunch, Draco. See you Friday.”

And with a wink, she pulled Fred from his seat, returning to the Gryffindor table where their friends were waiting for them to head to Charms. Angelina and Iris were still arguing over which activity should take priority for the school year.

Quidditch, Assassins, Quidditch, Assassins.

“What’s Friday?” Fred asked, pulling his bag off the floor by the bench and onto his shoulder before he leaned down to grab Eleanor’s as well.

“Clear your schedules,” Eleanor said to her friends with a smile, “we’re crashing a Slytherin party this weekend.”


	24. Party Rock Anthem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't edited this chapter yet. I'll get to it soon, but wanted to release it since I took so long to write it. Excuse any horrible typos or grammatical errors.

A crop top. A mini skirt. One of those dresses that felt as though a seem would burst at any moment because it was just that tight. Jeans. A shirt over a shirt over a shirt. A skater dress. More jeans. A dress over a shirt. Another mini skirt. Layer, layer, layer. That’s what Iris said at least.

The girls’ dormitory was chaotic most Friday nights. The stairwell would jam as girls ran from one dormitory to the next begging Muggle-born girls to let them borrow something, anything for whatever party was being thrown that night. Luckily for the seventh-year girls, Iris was always more than willing to share her enormous haul of Muggle clothing that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year.

“I hate these damn robes,” Iris would complain, pulling at the sleeves, “it’s just so stuffy.”

She’d wear the damned robes to class but that was it. Whether it be the weekend, an evening in the library, mealtimes, or a trip to Hogsmeade Iris could be found sporting jeans or a dress, depending on the weather. She didn’t care what professors or classmates had to say about it. If anyone commented she’d simply roll her eyes and mutter about their prejudice showing.

There were wizarding robes for parties. One could wear a dress robe, although that was typically for more formal occasions like the Yule Ball or a wedding. It would be unfortunate to spill cheap fire whiskey all down the front of an expensive dress robe while dancing in a cramped common room. More traditional witches and wizards, like those with long, complicated family trees that seemed to intertwine an uncomfortable amount, would simply wear worn out robes to teenage parties. They’d throw on a whole face of makeup, tell themselves everyone would be too drunk to remember that they ever wore something so below their standard, and put on some dusty, old robe with a hole in the armpit to sweat in for the night.

The richest of families just wore their formal dress robes, allowing whatever happened to them to happen. It was a symbol of wealth more than anything. _I have so much money I don’t care what happens to the most expensive item in my closet. I can just replace it later._ She was sure Draco Malfoy would be wearing his nicest, emerald dress robes tonight. He’d purposefully tear a seam, spill a drink if only to say ‘oh, it’s no problem. My father will buy me a new one.’ Montague on the other hand would pathetically explain to anyone who would listen that he couldn’t wear his dress robes to such an unceremonious event. His dress robes had been in the family for generations, it was unfathomable to wear them to something so silly.

The rest of the school was moving toward Muggle party clothes. The younger generations in general were adapting more and more to Muggle culture. A fact some resented, one in which Eleanor celebrated. She had her own collection of Muggle clothing, although not as large as Iris’s, and the clothes were simply cuter. More fashionable, especially for a party. Let her show more skin, sweat less. An overall practical improvement.

“You have a lot of plaid skirts all of a sudden.” Angelina threw a yellow-striped plaid skirt on Iris’s bed. The discard pile.

“Well, duh. Like the movie clueless, that’s what I based like my whole summer wardrobe off of,” Iris said, her nose wrinkled as she retrieved her rejected skirt from her bed, folding it together gently.

“What? Clueless? Who’s clueless?” Angelina asked, now rifling through a stack of plaid skirts, all different colors, some short, some tight, some lose fitting. Iris’s family had a lot of muggle money and she spent a good portion of it on clothing. Her father was some kind of non-magical healer. Something to do with hearts, but Eleanor couldn’t remember the exact word.

“It’s a movie, came out this summer.” Iris looked at her friends expectantly, who all shrugged. “I’m so confused by what you all do for fun. No movies, no television shows, no MTV. I’m so glad I’m Muggle-born or I’d lose my head of boredom.”

Eleanor wondered if that’s how her mother felt. Could the Wizarding world truly not compete with the Muggle world in form of entertainment. Her thoughts drifted to the life she might have experienced if her parents were still alive. A pleasant mix of Wizarding and Muggle life in one small family. She felt that all to familiar ache before shoving the thought aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun. There was no need for what-could-have-been scenarios an hour before the party.

“I like that red plaid skirt,” Alicia pointed to one of the skirts Angelina had thrown to the floor, “give me a sweater to match it.”

Iris threw Alicia a white sweater without looking away from Angelina. It was clear that Iris found the way in which Angelina was rifling through her clothes as distasteful.

“What are you wearing Iris?”

“That white dress,” Iris pointed in the direction of a tight-fitting white dress with spaghetti-straps, “it’s very Cher-esque.”

“Cher-”

“Oh, never mind. I’m going to make you all watch the movie one day. It’s _American_.”

Iris had a thing about America. Eleanor didn’t really get it, but Iris was big on the cities. LA, New York, Chicago, DC. She’d gone on and on about how one day she’d travel to the biggest cities in America and take the best pictures. Her mother took an American adventure after she finished schooling and Iris was determined to do the same.

“And Eleanor will wear the other Cher inspired dress I got,” Iris reached across her bed, dipping into her trunk and retrieving with something strikingly red. “Isn’t it just adorable!”

“It’s pretty, but I thought I’d wear-”

“No, you’ll wear this,” Iris insisted, shoving the red dress into Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor knew better than to argue with Iris on matters such as this. “Don’t mess with the length! I like it that length!”

“But I’m taller than you,” Eleanor whined, “I have to make it longer or else it won’t fit.”

“It’ll fit just fine, maybe it’ll be a _little_ short. You’ll just show some ass it’s fine. We can get you your own Paul Rudd.”

“My own what?”

“I genuinely hate it here sometimes.”

Eleanor sighed, turning around to change quickly into the red dress Iris had thrown her way. It wasn’t as tight as the one Iris was putting on, but it sure was short on Eleanor. It covered her ass, but just barely. She wanted to make it just a few centimeters longer, but Iris was eyeing her. Once she drank enough fire-whiskey she wouldn’t care much about the length of her dress.

 _Fire-whiskey second_ , she reminded herself, _Louis Wright first_.

She had a plan. A slightly slutty plan, but a very well thought out plan. A short dress could only increase the odds of her plan working.

“What do you guys think?” Iris gave a small twirl, her dress clinging to her body It was a gorgeous dress, although everything Iris wore, she seemed to make gorgeous. She was just the kind of person who could pull anything off. So was Angelina. Eleanor on the other hand was worrying about whether her strawberry hair clashed with her red dress. Such self-revolving thoughts.

“You look great, Ire,” Eleanor answered truthfully, Angelina nodding as she continued to scour through Iris’s clothes.

“Thank you, thank you.” Iris gave a small bow before returning her attention to Angelina. “Dude, just wear this, it’ll look so pretty on you.”

She threw a blue, floral dress toward Angelina. It was a body-con dress like Iris’s, but Angelina threw it back down with a shake of her head. “You too are both already dresses that look similar to that, I need something else.” 

“This is going to take forever,” Alicia groaned, dressed and ready. She threw herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Fine then take this white shirt-”

“But it’s long-sleeved, what if I get hot?”

“Then drink more and you won’t care,” Iris argued, throwing the shirt directly in Angelina’s face causing Angelina to scowl. “Put that on and then layer it with this.” She threw a black dress, buttons down the middle, with spaghetti-straps and hit Angelina in the face once again. Angelina looked at her options once more before giving in to Iris’s suggestion. She grabbed the pile of clothes before heading to the bathroom to change.

“That looks stunning on you, Ellie,” Iris crooned, moving to the full-length mirror Eleanor was applying her makeup in front of her.

“You think so?” Mascara done, eyebrows done, blush done. Check, check, check, time to take out Louis.

“Mhm,” Iris smiled, standing next to Eleanor so they both assessing themselves in the mirror, “I won’t be the only one to think so tonight either.” Iris winked.

“Oh really? Who else?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This red-head I know. Has a twin. Obsessed with you.”

Eleanor’s face flushed. “No, no, definitely not obsessed with me,” she muttered, moving out of view of the mirror and shoving her makeup back in her drawer. She looked to the bathroom, hoping Angelina would stay away for a few minutes more. She didn’t want her overhearing this conversation.

“Do you regret it?” Iris spoke softly after a moment’s pause, Eleanor’s back still turned to her.

“I- I don’t know.”

“It’s okay if you do, I just think… we understand, right Alicia? We get it but maybe-”

“No maybes,” Eleanor cut her off, standing upright and slamming the dresser drawer shut. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” She motioned her head towards their shared bathroom. Iris seemed to want to say more but simply rolled her eyes before sitting on the edge of her bed to slip on a pair of high heels. Bad dancing shoes.

Alicia continued to stare at the ceiling, refusing to join the conversation. Truth be told, Eleanor wanted Iris and Alicia’s opinions, but she couldn’t bare to hear them. She could barely think about the whole thing. She wouldn’t even go up to the Owlery anymore, scared it might trigger an unwanted memory. She tucked that one pretty far back.

“Okay, this one will do, Iris,” Angelina proclaimed, strutting out of the bathroom. “I had to stretch it out a bit, since you’re so short.”

“Thank Merlin,” Alicia sat up on her bed, “can we get a move on? We’re going to get caught sneaking around the castle if we wait much longer. Filch makes his rounds in a very specific time-frame and we are cutting-”

“But she has to do her make-up!” Iris pouted, Angelina nodding fervently behind her. Alicia groaned before collapsing once more on her bed, muttering something about needing to be drunk.

After another fifteen minutes, everyone was dolled up and ready to go. The girls filed down the stairs, bumping into some already tipsy fourth years in the shortest of mini skirts. Iris pushed them out of the way, rolling her eyes as she went. The older they all got, the less patience they had with the younger years.

The boys were sitting around the fireplace, playing exploding snap. They were all wearing an assortment on Muggle clothes Iris had bought for them two summers ago. She’d insisted that they all needed at least one pair of jeans and a jean jacket each.

Lee was decked completely in denim blue, his jean jacket buttoned up. George on the other hand had opted for a leather jacket and jeans, a look Eleanor assumed he was trying to impress Montague with. He did look good, great even, but he deserved to be dressing that well for someone else. Not an idiot bigot. Alfie had on a striped blue and yellow jumper with jeans. He looked sweet, as always.

Lastly there was Fred, who, as always, looked good. He was wearing a plaid flannel, brown and red, with his jeans cuffed. His eyes swept over Eleanor when she made it to the bottom step. He winked when she met his gaze, and she fought the urge to look away. That would only make it worse.

“That took forever,” Lee complained.

“I know for a fact Oliver takes just as long to get ready and you never bitch at him,” Angelina quipped.

“Well, he makes it up to me with sex, so unless any of you are offerin- OW!” Iris smacked Lee hard on the arm before laughing and running off. She skipped to the portrait hole, the rest of the group following her.

“You look nice,” Fred whispered, elbowing her in the side. Iris turned to mess with Lee some more, catching sight of Eleanor and Fred secluded in the back of the group. Her face broke into a triumphant smirk and she twirled to face forward once more, leading the pack through the deserted corridor. _Fucking Iris._

“Iris made me wear this,” Eleanor muttered back, feeling her face grow hot. It’s just a compliment. Friends give friends compliments.

“Well, she knows her stuff.”

“You can only stun your target after I stun mine,” Eleanor whispered as quietly as she could, changing the subject. “Don’t you dare steal my idea.”

Fred and George were the only two who knew why Eleanor wanted to go to the Slytherin invite-only party over the Hufflepuff party. The rest just assumed she wanted to crash it for the hell of it to piss Montague off. It was a great cover because it was something she would normally do. The cherry on top of the whole thing. However, now Fred wanted to take the opportunity to stun Adrian as well, which Eleanor was fine with as long as it didn’t interrupt her personal agenda.

“I won’t,” Fred rolled his eyes, “but if we did it at the exact same time-”

“Just do it like a second after I do mine. Everyone will be shocked; you can do it.”

“What’s the password?” Iris whispered when they arrived in front of the bare stretch of stone wall that concealed the Slytherin common room. Unless you knew it was happening, no one could have guessed that there was a party going on behind that wall. Montague must have enchanted the room with silencing charms to keep the professors or Filch from overhearing the party. Smart move.

“Oh um, it’s…” Eleanor was finding it difficult to twist her mouth into saying the word. Her original praise for Montague fell away to the usual dislike. He was such an asshole.

“Oh,” Iris said, frowning. She turned to the wall and took a deep breath before speaking through gritted teeth. “Mudblood.”

The group grimaced as the wall slowly peeled apart, allowing a full view of the Slytherin common room. Eleanor snuck a quick look in George’s direction. He looked quite abashed, which she found a sick joy in. He had to know his boyfriend was the one who commissioned such a password.

A glob of students stood in the middle of the common room, the furniture vanished from sight. Music was playing from a radio at the front of the room, the volume amplified so that the whole room shook. The party was already in full swing, plastic cups thrown to the side once their contents had been drained. Some bulky Slytherin was charging everyone a fee for alcohol in front of the largest window which showcased the lake. Ten knuts for a beer, a sickle for a cup of fire whiskey, Madam Rosmerta’s Mulled Mead for five sickles. Eleanor liked the greenish tint the Slytherin common room held from the reflection of the lake. It helped set the mood.

The Slytherin students tended to lean traditional. The common room was littered with tattered school robes and the occasional extravagant dress robe. They would continue wearing their Wizarding robes to parties to show their pride in their heritage. Or whatever stupid reasoning they had. Truly Eleanor just believed a lot of them feared they would look a fool in Muggle clothing. Some students, like Montague or Draco Malfoy, wouldn’t be caught dead asking a Muggle-born for advice on anything, not even on something as simple as how to dress.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Montague was pushing through the crowd, bellowing at the freshly arrived Gryffindors from the bottom of the steps that led to the center of the room.

“I was invited,” Eleanor said with a smile, making her way into the thick of things.

“By whom?”

“Me.” Draco Malfoy appeared behind Montague, the tint of the room altering his strikingly blonde hair to a deep blue green color. As to be expected, Draco was wearing a pair of emerald dress robes, contrasting with the shabby one draping Montague. Montague may have been Head Boy, but Draco looked regal. Between the two, it was obvious which boy held an actual ounce of power and who was simply playing pretend.

“I told you not to invite outsiders,” Montague hissed.

Draco shrugged, taking a sip from his cup as he did so. Montague looked between Eleanor and Draco, an internal power-struggle playing out across his face. Montague was Head Boy and here within these walls, he was an authority figure. But Draco was a Malfoy. His father was a high-ranking Death Eater, a respected government official, and one of the richest men in all the Wizarding community. Taking a stab at Draco Malfoy came with too many risks. Risks Montague couldn’t afford.

Montague rolled his eyes, muttering something about the rules applying to everyone before pushing back through the crowd. The score was settled.

Draco: 1

Montague: 0

“Thank you,” Eleanor winked at Draco, looping her arm into his, “shall we get this show on the road?”

Draco led her away from her friends. She saw Isabella and Eden sitting on a couch propped haphazardly against the wall with their drinks sloshing. Isabella smiled when she saw Eleanor, waving with her drink. Liquid spilled down Isabella’s hands, her cup losing volume quickly. Eleanor waved back, accidentally hitting Crabbe in the face as she did so. Or was it Goyle? She wasn’t very good at telling the two apart. Whichever one it was grunted and stumbled backwards into the other one, falling on some poor Slytherin first-year. The girl shrieked under the weight of both boys as those watching the scene laughed. Draco rolled his eyes and gave one of his friends a sharp kick off the young girl.

“Draco! I was just looking- What is she doing here?” Pansy Parkinson was standing in front of Draco, her gaze fixed pointedly on Eleanor.

Pansy was wearing a dark purple dress even tighter than the ones Eleanor and Iris were wearing. Pansy was the type to appropriate Muggle clothing while still treating the Muggle-born students like they were scum. She liked tight dresses and tube tops and mini skirts and jeans, but she refused to respect the community who gave her such fashion.

“Hello Pansy,” Draco said, looking around her to where Louis Wright stood playing switch cup with a few of his friends.

“Why are you with her?” Pansy demanded. Her voice was shrill from Draco’s initial dismissal.

“We’re going to play switch cup.”

“I can play switch cup with you!”

“Sorry love, but you’re a right mess at the game. I play to win.” And with that he pulled Eleanor around a very cross looking Pansy to where Louis stood, five cups lined in front of him.

“Need any extra players?” Eleanor asked, leaning into Louis with a smile. He looked surprise to see her touching him. Or maybe he was simply surprised to see her at all. He looked to Draco for answers, receiving a blank stare in response.

“Eleanor and I can be a team,” Draco said in the same icy tone he’d used with Pansy, “we can play you and Bah.”

“Do you even know how to play?” Idris Bah stood on the other side of the table, fidgeting with the cups placed in front of him.

“ _Do you even know how to play_ ,” Eleanor mimicked with a roll of her eyes, “of course we know how to play.”

The rules were simple. Each team started with five cups of vodka shots arranged in a tight triangle on opposite sides of the table. The players took turns attempting to banish marbles the size of tennis balls, Remembralls, or whatever other ball shaped object was convenient into the cups. If a team successfully banished their object into the other team’s cup, the other team is then forced to drink the contents of that cup. As well, the successful team passes one of their own cups to the other team, therefore one team losses a cup, another team gains a cup. The goal was to drink the least, as the more a person drinks, the worse their aim, and the more they are forced to drink, continuing the cycle. Iris claimed it was incredibly similar to some game Muggles played called Beer Pong.

“Although,” Iris would say when comparing the two, “I think the way we play Switch Cup gets people fucked up faster than Beer Pong ever could.”

Draco’s job had been to make sure Louis played two rounds before she even arrived at the party. Judging from the glazed look in his eyes and the stench of alcohol on his breath, Louis had been playing all night. Her sober magic could easily beat his drunken attempts.

“We’re using Meg’s Remembralls so don’t break them. Bitch scares the shit out of me even if she needs six of these things to remember a damn thing.”

Bah was right to scared. Megaera Carrow scared even Eleanor, with Death Eater parents and a temper to match.

“Guests first,” Louis mumbled, moving to stand on the other side of the table facing Eleanor and Draco. Eleanor went first, muttering ‘ _Depulso_ ’ and pointing her wand at the cups opposite her. She sunk the Remembrall into the point of the triangle. Louis sighed before draining the cup. She passed one of their cups to Bah, reestablishing the other team’s triangle. Draco followed suit, making his shot too. Bah cursed and drank the cup Draco successfully hit. Draco and Eleanor shared a smug smile before returning their attention to the task at hand.

Louis missed his shot, aiming the Remembrall to the far right of the table. Eleanor caught it before it smashed to the ground. Bah punched Louis in the side of the arm for almost breaking Meg’s Remembrall before taking his turn. He made it and Draco drank. Eleanor and Draco agreed prior that Draco needed to do most of the drinking to keep Eleanor’s mind clear. Bah passed a cup back to Draco. There were now seven cups on the table.

And then there were five as Draco and Eleanor made their shots again. There was only one lonely cup for Bah and Louis to shoot at now, which they both missed.

And then Eleanor made another shot. Four left, none on their side. They’d won after only three rounds, forcing Bah and Wright to drink the remaining shots on their side. Draco scoffed and nudged Eleanor with his shoulder. A celebratory gesture of sorts.

“We’re switching teams,” Bah demanded after his last shot, “Louis’s already wasted I want a new partner.”

“Well, I want to dance,” Eleanor crooned, “Louis, dance with me?”

Louis raised his eyebrows at her. She wasn’t sure how this was going to go, seeing as Louis had never showed the slightest of interest in her. Draco promised that Louis would go for any girl who showed the smallest inclination of affection toward him.

“That’s not just Louis, you know,” Draco whispered to her in the library Wednesday evening as they put the final touches on their plan, “it’s most guys. Men have no standards, that’s why wizards end up reproducing with Muggles. Show any sign of affection and they’ll want to jump your bones.”

She’d stomped on his foot then, irritated with his constant Wizard Supremacist views. But he was right about Louis. It seemed to take him a moment to comprehend her words, but before long he was rushing over to her to grab her hand.

Eleanor couldn’t see Draco’s face, but she felt his smirk burning through the back of her skull. She flipped him off behind her back with her free hand as Louis led her into the thick of the makeshift dance floor. Some Weird Sisters song was playing, and Eleanor found herself wishing Slytherin parties played a mix of Wizard and Muggle music.

Louis pulled her close, their bodies smack up against each other. She regretted not taking the shot Bah had made during Switch Cup. She didn’t enjoy being this close to Louis. His breath reeked of alcohol and tobacco; a hint of dinner layered behind the suffocating scents. He moved his hands to her ass, and she resisted the urge to knee him in the groin. A few minutes of discomfort and she was home free.

“I didn’t think you knew who I was,” Louis slurred. He thrusted his hips into hers. Ew.

“Mhm,” she mustered, loosening one hand from his neck to reach for her, which was tucked securely in the back of her bra strap.

“I always thought you liked that,” he moved his mouth closer to her ear, kissing the side of her face sloppily, “ _blood traitor_ Weasley twin.”

Reckless anger surged. She abandoned the rest of the plan, pulling Louis away abruptly.

“I do,” she spat, sticking her wand into his chest, “ _Stupefy_!”

Louis fell backward, stiff as a board to the ground. He groaned as Eleanor leered over him. People around them were laughing and pointing. Some of the older students were trying to decide whether Eleanor was simply attacking Louis for an unwanted touch or if it was part of Assassins. The answer was simple – it was both.

“Go grab your notebook, asshole,” Eleanor crouched down next to Louis as he came around. His eyes flickered between consciousness and oblivion. It was going to take him forever to comprehend what she was asking of him.

“Already a step ahead of you,” Draco was standing above her, holding the notebook that would give her the next target. “I stole it from his dormitory just now.”

“Good thinking Draco,” Eleanor commended him, grabbing the book out of his hands. He continued to look at her expectantly. “Well, I’m not going to look at it now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in the middle of a party!”

“So?”

“So, anyone could oversee the page! Can you just hold to it for the night? Hold it in your dormitory?”

Draco appeared displeased that his curiosity would not be satisfied immediately but felt pride in being entrusted with a task all the same. He pocketed the book, nodding solemnly before disappearing through the web of people surrounding her. Louis made another grunting noise as though begging not to be forgotten on the floor.

“That was smart,” Montague praised dryly from behind her. His eyes lacked a single indicator of emotion.

“Thank you,” Eleanor said with a small bow. She grabbed the cup of Fire Whiskey out of his hand and drained it with a swig. It burned the whole way down her throat, warming her heart as it made its way down to the pit of her stomach.

“Malfoy helped sneak you in, you hit Wright when he was vulnerable, game over for him.”

“Pretty much.”

Montague eyed her for a second longer. “I can’t wait until I get a book that reads your stupid name.”

“Ditto.”

“Damn Eleanor!” There was a sudden impact into her back. A plethora of arms turned her away from Montague. Angelina was holding Eleanor in front of her as though inspecting her. She had the air of an older relative surveying a child who’d just experienced a growth spurt.

“I’ve been waiting all night for that,” George laughed.

“Good play!” Lee roared from behind Angelina. He shoved another shot of Fire Whiskey into her hand, and she gulped it down yet again. Warmer and warmer she became. It was time to celebrate.

“Now, let’s get drunk!” Eleanor yelled, laughing as her friends clapped her on the back. “Wait, where’s Alfie?”

“Oh, he left,” Iris poked her head out from behind Angelina. She was frowning.

“Why?”

“He got into with Theo. I’m not sure what about. Probably just elder brother duties. Don’t drink so much, don’t do drugs, use protection, blah, blah, blah.” But Eleanor could tell Iris didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“Maybe we should check-”

“No, I liked the sound of your first plan. Let’s get wasted everyone!” Lee shouted, raising his cup in the air to the applause of their fellow Gryffindors. It was then that Eleanor realized Alfie wasn’t the only one who didn’t congratulate her. Fred. She scanned the room until she found him in the corner, grinding with Isabella.

Two shots weren’t a lot. They weren’t enough to cloud her judgement or enable bad decisions. But it was enough for a boost of confidence. She’d already gotten her way once tonight, what was once more.

“Hi Isabella!” Eleanor sang as she approached the pair, “Did you hear Fred has Herpes!”

Isabella stared back at her in confusion, removing herself from Fred slowly. She shot Fred a frightful glance before sliding past Eleanor and into the crowd behind them. Eleanor giggled at her own genius.

“What the fuck was that-”

“Dance with me!” Eleanor yelled, grabbing his hand. “Wait, actually here,” she placed a few sickles into the palm of his hand, “go grab us some drinks and then come dance with me.”

Fred looked at her dumbstruck. Slowly, his wild grin appeared on his freckled face and he ran off to buy two Fire Whiskeys. He returned with two plastic cups in hand.

And then it was Fred whose body was right up against hers. His breath didn’t smell bad. In fact he smelled of Cinnamon and fireworks. Maybe there was a hint of Puking Pastilles in there, but the sweets themselves weren’t repulsive. Fred’s hands stayed on her hips. For the most part. Sometimes he lowered them to her ass, but it didn’t upset her when he did it. She’d laugh and nuzzle her head into his shoulder, singing to whatever Weird Sisters’ song was repeating for the third time on the radio.

“I saw you dancing like this with Louis,” his breath was hot on her ear. She pulled him closer instinctively. The alcohol finally made its way to her brain. Everything was foggy but Fred.

“A necessary evil,” she laughed, “disgusting. I loved stunning him.”

Fred laughed back, resting his chin on her forehead. His heads were running up and down her sides, hers along his neck. Suddenly, he spun her around, swaying against her back. He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Don’t dance with anymore of your targets,” he whispered, “I can’t take it.”

“Then dance with me yourself.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

She laughed and stole a cup out of a random Slytherin’s hands. She threw it back, resting her head on Fred’s shoulder as she drank the mead. She wanted to keep feeling this warm. Wrapped up in alcohol, wrapped up in Fred.

“Then keep dancing with me.”

“That’s the plan,” he muttered, running his hands once more down her arms. “I wish we danced like this at the Yule Ball.”

She looked up to see Iris and Alicia staring at her. Iris gave her a small thumbs up, grinning ear to ear. Alicia on the other hand shook her head and looked away. A wave of guilt washed over Eleanor.

The fucking Yule Ball.

“Me too.”


	25. A Series of Slut-Shaming Events

November 1994. Sixth Year.

It all started with that stupid slogan. Maybe slogan was the wrong word. A chant? A rallying cry? Whatever it was, she blamed it. And she blamed Cedric. She was finally receiving retribution for the _Too Quick Cedric_ jab.

The issue with that original joke was that although it was about Cedric, Eleanor’s role was implied. Cedric was no good at sex, but Eleanor was the whore who let him fuck her. Which wasn’t even true. She hadn’t paid Cedric enough mind to have sex with him. He had been her boyfriend in name only. The way in which children play at dating. They’d tell anyone who’d listen they were in a relationship but skirted around each other in the hallways, fingers crossed that they’d kept their head low enough to avoid an interaction. A wave here and there, a date once a month, small talk, but nothing serious.

Their relationship felt like a game of truth or dare, with dares being dished their way repeatedly leaving no room for the truth. _And I dare you to hold his hand!_ Their peers seemed to cry out, watching their every move with a mixture of envy and excitement. _Now I dare you to kiss him!_ A first kiss, fast, awkward, uncomfortably wet. The hope that they’d never have to kiss again. No one ever asked, _ok now truth, do you even like each other?_ Because the honest answer was no. They should have worked, everything looked good on paper, but they didn’t. They were opposite poles of a magnet, a small child forcing the ends to meet over and over regardless of the resistance.

Cedric was right to dump her. She should have done it herself, but she was a coward. She refused to tell her friends the truth of the matter, settling with playing the heartbroken victim if only to avoid the awkward questions she couldn’t answer.

_Well, why didn’t you like him?_

_Is there someone else?_

_What’s wrong with you? He was Perfect!_

_Are you just incapable of love?_

_I don’t know, maybe, I don’t know, maybe_. She doubted her friends would ever actually ask her such questions, but some terrible anxiety persisted within her that kept her from trusting her anyone to leave her be. So, she let the rumor spread, giving feeble attempts at putting a stop to it if only to create the impression that she tried. Karma was a bitch.

Cedric and Harry’s names being pulled from the Goblet created a resurrection of interest in Eleanor and Cedric’s dating history. The older students liked including Eleanor in their taunts. _Cedric will fuck Potter up, just like he fucked his slut sister._ That was her favorite of all the word play. There were many iterations, all with the same point.

_He’s already fucked one Potter; he can fuck over the other._

_Cedric’s bringing disappointment upon that whole family!_

_Poor Cedric. He dated the whore sister, now he’s dealing with the attention whore brother. Nothing can ever just be about him, can it?_

They just got wordy after that. Began to lack the original creativity of the first few. Eleanor told herself she didn’t care, but the truth was she did. She wanted to talk to her mom about the whole thing. _Hey mom, it’s Ella, the whole school is saying I’m a giant slut. What should do I do about it?_ Or better yet tell her dad and uncles. They’d come storming the school, maybe in their Animagus form, threatening any boy who spoke unkindly of her within an inch of their life while she stood behind her father grinning.

She remembered the first time she heard the taunts. Sitting at breakfast the day after Harry’s name had been pulled. November 1st, 1994. Her seventeenth birthday.

“How’d he do it?” George whispered as Eleanor swirled her yogurt listlessly. Her thoughts roaming far away from Hogwarts, as they did every November first.

“Do what?”

“Are you joking? How’d Harry put his name into the Goblet? Did you help him? Because if you helped him and not us-”

“I didn’t help my brother enter the tournament,” she snapped, “and he said he didn’t enter his name, I already told you that!”

“I know he said that, but…” George sighed, avoiding eye contact, “I just don’t see anyone going through all the trouble to enter his name. What’s even the point of that?”

“You think Harry would go through all this trouble to participate in a deadly tournament?” Eleanor raged on, slamming her spoon down on the table. “Why can’t you just believe me for once George? You didn’t believe me about Sirius, you don’t believe me about Harry, but I’ve never lied to you before. Not once. Fred believes me… don’t you, Fred?”

She regretted the question instantly. The words came out in a pleading fashion, lacking any sense of confidence in their friendship. A child begging for the approval of a superior. They were still fighting, although they pretended they weren’t. They sat together in class, at mealtimes, and in the common room, but they didn’t speak much. When they did, they argued about stupid things. Things like who’s homework they copied last time or who’s idea a joke shop item was, but it all stemmed from that original fight. Every time Eleanor was ready to let it go, decide it was time to apologize, she’d run into Fred with some girl in the hallway and resentment would build once more. She’d become even more hostile than before, fending off any of his own attempts at a peace treaty.

Fred shrugged, staring at his breakfast. “I don’t see you helping Harry enter the tournament. You didn’t want to yourself,” Eleanor beamed before he continued on, “but I also don’t get why someone else would enter his name. I mean who’s out to hurt him now? You-know-who’s gone, we can’t blame everything on him.”

“So, you think Harry entered his own name?”

Fred shrugged again and Eleanor frowned. She’d been frowning so much lately it’d be a miracle if she didn’t end up with frown lines by the end of the year.

“You’re just pissed Cedric’s name was chosen.” She was playing offense now, trying to hit a nerve. He was always on her side. Always. But now everything was different. She’d ruined their friendship by falling in love with him. Or maybe people just grew apart as they got older. The twins finding their way in the world while Eleanor fell behind.

“It should have been Angelina,” he shot back, finally meeting her gaze. A true standoff.

“Of course you’d say that.”

“She’s your friend too, you know. Not that you act like it. She’s constantly asking me what she’s doing wrong to piss you off. You’ve been a shit friend to everyone lately.”

The words gutted her. The punch landed, removing the air from her lungs as her heart fell into the deepest pit of her stomach. It was the kind of pain that buried a person beneath heavy sadness. Until it evolved into a much angrier, greedier monster. Her heart shot back into her chest, raging with an untamed fire. The kind of pain that made a person feel alive. That everything-hurts-but-it’s-better-than-nothing-at-all pain. The kind that inspired a fighting spirit.

“You haven’t been a shit friend,” George interrupted quickly before Eleanor could speak, “no one’s been a shit friend, okay? Can you two please just stop-”

“Potter! Pssst, Potter!”

Eleanor turned around to see Roman Bones staring at her from the Hufflepuff table. She didn’t know much about Roman, other than he was Cedric’s best friend who didn’t care much for Eleanor. She had no opinion on him. He was a forgetful face, not at all unattractive, but simply plain with a personality to match. Nice enough, but not too nice to be remembered for it. Smart enough, but not too smart that the Professor’s called him out for it. Funny enough, but not about to get a laugh from the crowd.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t have helped your brother enter the tournament. This was _our_ turn to shine.”

 _Cedric’s_ turn to shine, but the Hufflepuffs were rallying around him as though each one of their names had flown out of the goblet. It was about time that Hufflepuff took center stage but not if they were going to be assholes to her brother.

“I didn’t,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“Mhmm,” Roman rolled his eyes, a smirk setting upon his face. “Maybe if you give old Ced a blowjob he’ll go easy on Harry this first round. I hear you’re a riot.”

Eleanor’s face flushed. This new anger, combined with her previous anger from Fred’s comment, made her want to jump across the table and tear his throat out. Claw and kick until he was struggling to breathe under the weight of her hands. _Crucio, Crucio, Crucio_. Die, die, die.

“Fuck off, Bones,” George yelled as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. He reached across the table to turn Eleanor back around, murmuring something about Roman not being worth it. Eleanor picked a fork up and stabbed it directly into the table. The cup beside George shattered with a small pop, glass shards mixing into the yogurt she’d been mulling over. She was losing it.

“Don’t,” Fred warned, looking at Eleanor as if she were a misbehaving toddler.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Roman laughed. He stood up from the table with a victorious smile. He’d won by getting under her skin. “Doesn’t really matter, George. Cedric’s going to fuck Harry over just like he fucked his slut sister.”

George stood fast, the dishes rattling as his legs smacked into the tabletop. Fred pulled his brother back down, shaking his head furiously. He shot Roman an irritated look before returning to his breakfast. George stared back at his brother, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck, Fred?”

“There’s no point, we’ll have to hex the whole school. Everyone’s saying it.”

Eleanor furrowed her brow. The whole school was saying what exactly? That Harry was going to get his ass handed to him by the same guy who defiled his sister. His slutty, whore of a sister because how dare a girl have sex.

“Then I’ll hex the whole school,” George shot back, looking between Eleanor and Fred. “I don’t fucking care, that’s vile.”

“What are we defending? They shouldn’t be slut-shaming her, but she did fuck Cedric so we can’t really tell them to stop saying as much.”

“Excuse me?”

Tears were stinging at her eyes, more from anger than anything else. She couldn’t believe the words coming out of Fred’s mouth. Fred Weasley, her Fred, who’d tackled Montague for making similar accusations last spring. The same Fred Weasley who’d sent Cedric a howler when he heard he’d dumped Eleanor. One howler sent to his house over Christmas, one howler sent to him during lunch in the Great Hall. The Fred Weasley who answered unsavory questions for her flawlessly. He wasn’t her Fred anymore. She’d have to accept it. The biscuit on Fred’s plate caught on fire.

“What the actual fuck, Fred?” George was livid but Fred was too busy trying to save his burnt biscuit to respond.

“What are you all looking so cross about,” Ron muttered, sitting down next to his brothers. He shot Eleanor an irritated look before continuing, his tone icy. “You should be happy; Harry was chosen as a stupid fucking Champion. Everyone, bow down to Harry, per usual.”

“Are you serious, Ronald?” Eleanor yelled, the last straw snapping. “And for your information Fred, not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I never slept with Cedric. Not a once. But if I had, it wouldn’t make me a slut and the fact that…” Eleanor stopped herself. It wasn’t worth her breath. They didn’t deserve an explanation. Not Roman, not Ron, and certainly not Fred.

“Happy birthday to me!” She mumbled, the plate Ron had grabbed falling apart in his hands. Another explosion. She was impressed with how small the outbursts were given her state of anger. She pulled herself up from the table, only George making attempts to call her back.

She hated her birthday.

It took a good week for Eleanor and Fred to begin pretending they weren’t fighting again. She completely avoided him. The girls were viciously angry with Fred, especially Angelina was refusing to so much as look at him. They avoided him in a pack and shot him disgruntled looks every time he dared to show his face. George even played along for two days before begging her to forgive Fred.

“He was the biggest asshole, but he knows it! Just go talk to him, he’ll apologize!” George pleaded, his exhaustion at the situation causing him to get straight to the point. But she wouldn’t do it. Fred would need to come to her and apologize. She wasn’t chasing after him when he caused the whole mess.

And finally, he did, his tail between his legs, eyes pointed downward, feet shuffling, mumbling his words like he couldn’t push them out fast enough. That’s how she knew he meant it. Most of his apologies were pompous. He’d plop himself down beside his latest victim, make some stupid joke and playfully beg for forgiveness like a schoolgirl in trouble. He never meant those, he just wanted to get on with his life, but the discomfort was a clear giveaway. He knew he was wrong, and he didn’t handle being wrong well. Neither did she.

She accepted his apology and they fell back into limbo. They were physically present for the other, but not emotionally. The disconnect was more fractured than before as their bigger fights piled up. Money, sex, love, loyalty -their real fights always fell into one of those topics.

She wasn’t seeing him much anyway. Harry needed her now, with the first task approaching fast. She spent most of her time hidden away with Harry and Hermione, practicing random spells that might be of any use for the mystery first task. She wasn’t a great teacher, her normal answers being ‘ _I don’t know, it normally just does what I want it to do_ ’ whenever he asked how she performed a certain charm. She was good moral support though and she knew more spells than anyone else in the school thanks to her handy leatherbound notebook. She wrote down every useful spell she ever came across in that thing, just to remember that magic was capable of doing such things.

She was tired with the worry that something bad was about to happen, not with just Harry but with life. She attributed the current state of mind to Fred’s absence in her life, but there was something else digging around in her brain.

_Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew._

She had to stop thinking about him. He was probably off hiding in some rat colony somewhere. Nothing to worry about, but she liked the world a lot better when she believed him dead. It was safer that way. Justice would not be served until he was rotting in the same Earth her parents were.

“What are you thinking about?” George asked, sliding a Butterbeer her way. It was the weekend before the first task and the school was celebrating their excitement in Hogsmeade. Harry was off with Hermione somewhere under his invisibility cloak, avoiding Ron’s jealous gaze. Fucking Ron.

“How much I wish Ron would leave us alone.” Fred snorted. That was the most he could give her.

“I’m not even bothering you. I’m just sitting here!” Ron complained, looking over to where Hermione sat at a table by herself. Correction- seemingly by herself. Harry must have been there somewhere.

“Why don’t you go hang out with Hermione or something?” Fred asked, bored.

“Harry’s there,” Ron muttered, “I just know it.”

“Oh Merlin, you’re unbearable,” Eleanor groaned. “If you have to complain about my brother will you at least refrain until I’m not sitting right next to you. I know you don’t think he put his name in, you’re just being stubborn now.”

Ron folded his arms across his chest, slipping back slightly in his chair. If someone were to look up stubborn in the dictionary, Ron’s current image could be found right under it. Like a child pouting in the corner, holding their breath until their mother let them have one piece of candy before dinner.

“Um, Potter? I mean Eleanor?”

Eleanor closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever was to come. Another sexual innuendo was the most likely course the conversation would run. Slutty Eleanor Potter and her stupid, fame-mongering brother. She turned to face the speaker, Cormac McLaggen.

“I was wondering… um, I know it’s a month away and all…” his voice trailed off and Eleanor allowed the silence to continue. She really didn’t care what he had to say. She hoped he would scare himself out of saying whatever it was that he was getting at. “Oh, I’m being ridiculous. You. Me. Yule Ball. Sound good?”

Fred choked on his Butterbeer, spit flying everywhere. He was laughing so hard he was rolling about in his chair, hands clutched to his side. Eleanor hadn’t seen him laugh like that recently. She smiled despite herself.

“Uh, no that does not sound good to me.” Ron giggled next to her as Fred continued to howl. He was drawing the attention of the nearby tables, tears streaming down his face. George was watching the whole thing with eager enthusiasm. She could hear him already reciting the whole thing to their friends later, _‘and then McLaggen told her they were going to the ball. The prick didn’t even phrase it as a question, he just told her.’_

“What do you mean?” McLaggen frowned, his eyes fixed on Fred rather than Eleanor.

“No, I don’t want to go to the ball with you.”

“But you’re supposed to be easy,” McLaggen complained, more to himself than to her. There it was, the usual slut torment. “Everyone’s saying… Well, Why not? Are you going with someone else or something? You aren’t going to be finding many suitors with your reputation-”

Eleanor started tuning him out. She’d heard enough and she didn’t owe him an answer to any of his questions.

“She’s going with me,” Fred said suddenly, pulling himself together. He was still winded from the hysterics. Eleanor stared at him, her eyes wide. He winked at her once before turning his attention back to McLaggen. Her heart fluttered. He hadn’t winked at her in a month.

“No, she’s not,” McLaggen laughed.

“Yes, I am.” Eleanor smiled warmly at Fred, he back at her. Things felt almost normal again.

“Then I guess you really are easy if you’re shagging a Weasley,” McLaggen spat but she didn’t care what he had to say anymore. Fred was on her side again and there was a possibility, maybe a miniscule possibility, that Fred meant what he said. Was that his way of asking her to the Yule Ball?

“Well, what does that say about you if she won’t shag you?” Fred shot back. “She’s _soooo_ easy but won’t touch you.”

The whole table broke out in laughter at that as McLaggen turned a bright shade of red. He stomped away, slamming the door to the Three Broomsticks as he went. Eleanor couldn’t stop laughing. Her joy was unmatched. Things were falling back into place, the way they were supposed to be.

And despite her better judgement, Eleanor convinced herself that Fred’s tiny statement _, she’s going with me,_ was true. She refused to ask for clarification, mainly out of fear that she was wrong. It would be humiliating to ask if they were really going together, using a random conversation for evidence, and have him turn her down. She imagined him rolling with laughter the way he had when McLaggen asked her to the ball. _Silly Eleanor, why would I ever go with you?_

She stayed safe in her delusional world where she shied away from clear communication. A few other boys asked her to the ball, all random, all hoping for sex, and she turned them all down using the same line – I’m already going with Fred Weasley, sorry. If she said it enough times, maybe it would manifest itself into the truth. She’d walk down the stairs in a pretty dress to where Fred was waiting for her in the common room, cleaned up in dress robes. She lulled herself to sleep every night with that very image. Her hopes were dangerously high. Hope breeds eternal misery.

Harry survived the first task. Not only did he survive, but he performed better than Cedric did. That put a stop to most of the taunting, for both Eleanor and Harry. She thanked him tremendously for that, although she reminded him that she didn’t care how well he did on the next two tasks. _Let’s just get through the whole thing with you in one piece._

She was sitting with Ron and Harry when she was asked once more to go to the Yule Ball, this time by none other than Ronald Weasley.

“Can’t you just go with me,” Ron groaned, his head in his hands as they sat in the common room. Eleanor was examining Harry’s golden egg, looking for clues in the glittering casing. She wanted the clue to not be the ear-piercing screaming.

“I’m going with Fred,” she muttered her default answer to the question without really thinking about who she was answering to.

“What? Fred’s going with Angelina.”

Eleanor dropped the egg and it burst open. The common room was engulfed in terrible screeches as she fumbled with it. Everyone stared angrily as she dropped the egg once more, having to get out of her seat to retrieve it. Finally, she snapped it shut, staring at Ron in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“He asked her in front of me just an hour ago,” Ron said, confused. He gave a side glance to Harry, who seemed determined to stay out of the conversation. He was chewing on the end of his quill, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of him.

“Oh.”

She was so stupid. So freaking stupid. This time she found herself unable to even force blame upon Fred. She was the one who created the whole fantasy in her head and now she was without a date to the Yule Ball. She wanted to cry. Or maybe she wanted to punch a mirror in until her fist bled. Or maybe she wanted to go to sleep. She definitely wanted to talk to her mother. _Hey mom, it’s me again, the boy I like is taking my friend to the Yule Ball after I convinced myself he wanted to go with me. What should I do?_

Her dad would have understood. He pinned after Lily for almost six years before she gave him a chance. _Hey dad, it’s Ella, how’d it feel when mum wanted nothing to do with you? Do you think it’s easier when the person you like is disgusted by you or is your best friend? Wanna compare notes?_

“Well, do you want to go with me now that Fred’s ditched you?” Ron asked again, pulling her out of her funk.

“I’m not going.” That was it, there was no reason for her to go now. She tossed Harry his egg back. Harry gave her a sympathetic look but no comfort. He wasn’t great at dealing with emotions. She assumed that growing up with Aunt Petunia would do that to a person.

“What? Come off it! Why would you not…” The wheels were turning in Ron’s head and she saw everything fall into place behind his eyes. “Oh…”

“It’s whatever Ron, it’s fine.” She got up, needing some fresh air. She had two adults left in her life that she could ask questions to. She grabbed her bag and walked to the owlery. She ran into Fred and George on the way. They’d been up to whatever secret they had and for once she was grateful for it. They skirted around her, making some kind of joke to avoid answering who they were writing to and Eleanor didn’t push the matter. She wanted them to go away.

“Who are _you_ writing to?” George asked at the door of the owlery, half in, half out. The way she’d been with the twins for months now.

“Professor Lupin,” she muttered. She hadn’t decided which of her godfathers she wanted to write to until that moment, but now it seemed obvious. Sirius’s response would be anger. It would be exactly what she wanted to hear, her thoughts repeated back to her on a dirty piece of parchment. They were too alike, her and Sirius. She’d emulated him somewhere along the line. A mini Sirius Black. She needed Remus to give it to her straight.

“Oh… why?”

Eleanor shrugged, stroking Hedwig. “Catching up.”

“Well… we’ll see you in the common room,” Fred said from behind his brother. He sensed her hostility, rocking on the balls of his feet. He was trying to get away before she exploded. Good move.

She waited until she heard the bottom door close and then she began to write. It was too embarrassing to write her actual dilemma on paper. She’d try and then cringe, tapping the words with her wand to erase the train of thought. She settled with a simple question.

_Dear Remus,_

_I hope you’ve been well. Hogwarts isn’t the same without you. Professor Moody is okay, but he’s absolutely off his rocker. He performed the unforgivable curses in class, which brought on some kind of anxiety attack, I think. But I’m okay._

_We all miss you a lot, especially Harry and me. It would be so much easier with you here to help Harry though the tournament. I’ll never forgive Snivellus for helping push you out the door. Pathetic little gremlin._

_I was wondering if you’d meet me in Hogsmeade this weekend? We don’t have a trip scheduled but I can sneak out. I’d really like to see you before Christmas. I need to talk to you in person._

_I love you._

_Eleanor Potter_

She watched Hedwig fly off into the distance with her letter. Wherever Lupin was tonight, she hoped it was decent. She’d give him all the money in her vault if she could, but he’d never take it. Just like the Weasley’s. James Potter would have wanted to help take care of Remus Lupin. Maybe James Potter could have forced the money into his hand. But she wasn’t James Potter. She was just a girl who Remus was very good at slipping away from.

As Hedwig disappeared from view her mind wandered back to the nagging in her brain.

_Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew._

The little rat. She didn’t have to worry about him, she’d promised herself that. But wasn’t that what her parents had believed. That was the line of thought that bit them in the ass. She pulled another piece of parchment out of her bag and began to write. She didn’t think she’d get a response, but it was worth a shot.

She tied the new letter to the leg of a school owl and sent it off. Maybe she’d get an answer as a Christmas present.


	26. Hogwarts V. Umbridge

The room was stuffy. That was the only thing that Eleanor could concentrate on. She tugged on the neck of her robes as sweat dripped down her back. If she could only move her desk back a few feet she’d be able to lean her head against the cool glass of the window. She tried to scoot in the direction of the window but the sound of the chair legs scraping against the stone floor echoed loudly through the crowded classroom, blocking out Montague’s voice momentarily. He turned his head swiftly in her direction and shook his head before droning on again. The firework tattoo on her wrist burned once before fizzling out.

She’d never known a student council meeting to be so well attended. Not that she’d personally attended any prior to that year but it seemed that a quarter of the school was there to express their concerns. Alicia sat between Eleanor and Montague at the head of a spare classroom on the second floor where these meetings were typically held. The prefects were tucked away in a back corner, half appearing bored (Ron) and the other half taking notes as Montague had instructed (Hermione).

The desks in the classroom were pushed together in clumps of students, the heads of multiple clubs taking up most of the spots. Alfie, who led the Wizarding Chess club, was back by the prefects. He was listening, but not actively participating. Eleanor noticed him open his mouth multiple times to speak but had his sentences railroaded by others every time. Athena Lovegood was situated right up front, being the editor of the school paper, her hand poised permanently in the air. Eddie Rhodes, head of the Astronomy club, sat next to Isabella Hart, who led more clubs than Eleanor could keep track of. Uncharacteristically, she was staying silent which couldn’t be a good sign. She was pissed. Everyone was pissed.

They’d changed the time and date of the meeting to avoid Umbridge. Technically, _technically,_ they were not allowed to be having this meeting. The day and time were unapproved and there was way more than three people gathered in the dank room. However, the student council was allowed to reform under Umbridge’s guidelines. It was a grey area, and everyone seemed willing to risk the consequences of getting caught if only to voice their complaints this once.

“Look, Umbridge has allowed almost every club to rejoin,” Montague repeated for the fifth time that night. Alicia rolled her eyes, huffing in tune with the rest of the room.

“Stop defending her!” Lee yelled out, which was immediately followed by a round of cheers. “My broadcast has been completely censored. I’m not allowed to speak on anything happening at Hogwarts and absolutely nothing about you-know-who, which is a pretty big topic whether you believe he’s back or not. Athena, has she blocked _Hogwarts Daily_?”

“I wanted to do a piece on the student body’s favorite professors,” Athena quipped, nodding along with Lee. “We’ve done one every year and I’ve never run into an issue, but this year I can’t print anything considered flattery toward Professor Dumbledore or improper toward Umbridge. Don’t even get me started on the Ministry. I printed a piece on the changes the ministry made to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and she suspended the paper. I’m still printing of course but it’s completely unreasonable that I have to keep it secret.”

More cheers of agreement. Eleanor and Alicia nodded with the mob as Montague tried to keep order. He kept checking the door as though Umbridge might burst in on them at any moment. Eleanor’s tattoo burned again. It was as though the firework had burst across her skin, crackling along her veins.

“I’m not defending her,” Montague continued through snorts of disbelief, “but there is nothing we can do while she is receiving backing from the Ministry.”

“Fuck the Ministry!” The figure of Angelina bellowed from the corner opposite of the prefects, where she sat with the rest of the Quidditch Captains. Eleanor widened her eyes at Angelina, who was leaning back in her chair, hands cupping the back of her head. Eleanor shook her head quickly and Angelina straightened in her chair. “I mean… well, I just love Quidditch and… it’s not fair that she almost ruined the whole season for us! Ugh!”

More nods of agreement. Alicia stared at Angelina in confusion. Eleanor put her head in her hands, shaking her head once more. The idiot was going to give it away. 

“Look, I’d love to win this Quidditch season,” Cho Chang added, “but not if one team has been completely taken out of the running. It wouldn’t feel like a justified win.”

“Luckily,” Alicia interrupted quickly, “we don’t have to worry about Quidditch as much since all teams reformed in the end, regardless of how we ended up there. The newspaper and Lee’s broadcast being censored is, however, a huge issue. That will be taken up with the Headmaster immediately.”

“Can he even do anything about it?” Athena asked, her hand still in the air. Her arm had to be cramping.

“Probably not,” Eleanor muttered before she could stop herself. This time both Montague and Alicia shot her an irritated look. “I’m not trying to be pessimistic, it’s just… It’s one thing to get around Umbridge for a quidditch team. Her reasons for that weren’t going to be backed by the Ministry. That was a personal vendetta she holds against my family. But the printing and broadcasting of things the Ministry doesn’t want to the general public to know about… that’ll be harder.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Isabella asked, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Do it anyway.”

The room went silent for the first time all night. Athena’s hand finally dropped. Everyone looked between themselves, but no one spoke. They wanted a fool-proof solution for their issues regarding Umbridge, but Eleanor, Montague, and Alicia couldn’t grant them that. The Head Boy and Girl didn’t outrank a professor and Alicia, as head of the student council, ranked even lower.

“That was already my plan,” Lee said with a shrug.

“Mine too,” Athena nodded.

“I agree with Eleanor,” Alicia said slowly, biting her lip. “I also had another idea. I haven’t fooled myself into believing that the board of Governors, nor the Ministry as a whole, truly care about our feelings on how this school is run. But our parents do, and they need parental support to continue this.”

“What are you getting at?” Eden Smith, the co-founder of the Pre-Healer Association, asked.

“Don’t interrupt her, Eden.” Montague barked, causing both Alicia and Eleanor to scowl. Eden hadn’t necessarily been rude, Montague just loved to make Eden feel small in public. Eleanor threw a quick glance in Angelina’s direction. The firework tattoo scorched with a greater intensity.

“Write to your parents. Not once, not twice. Everyday. Express how miserable you are. Tell your friends who aren’t here tonight to do the same, especially if they’re parents work in the Ministry.” Eleanor knew what Alicia really wanted to say. _Especially if your parents have money._

“I’m not going to encourage any of you to write slanderous letters to your parents about the Ministry’s handling-” Montague began.

“It’s not slanderous if it’s true,” Alicia snapped, “and don’t interrupt me.”

Eleanor choked down a laugh. A grin broke out across both Isabella and Eden’s faces. Girls supporting girls, girls hating Montague.

“As I was saying, write to your parents about how much you hate Umbridge. Athena, I think you should write to your dad and have him publish your article about Umbridge and the changes to the Defense Against the Dark Arts in the Quibbler. We need exposure of what is happening. Lee, I want you to start broadcasting outside of just Hogwarts. Every single house is united against her. It says something that we all seem to agree on that at least.”

Eleanor was admiring Alicia’s plan, daydreaming about the culture shock the Ministry would experience when she eventually worked her way through their ranks, when the door to the room swung open. Eleanor’s tattoo blistered her skin.

Angelina walked in, annoyance dripping from her every pore. The whole room did a double take, staring between the Angelina at the door and the Angelina sitting at a desk in the back corner. Eleanor groaned, mouthing a quick _do it!_ at the Angelina in the back corner.

Back corner Angelina jumped up, causing newly arrived Angelina to shriek. A streak of light flew across the room, just missing Isabella’s face by an inch, and smacked Eddie Rhodes in the chest. He crumpled, falling out of his chair like a rag doll. Eleanor let out a sigh of relief as back corner Angelina performed a small bow. Her hair was beginning to collapse back into her skull, turning from black to a fiery red.

“GEORGE!” The real Angelina screamed, smacking him hard on the arm with her book as he ran past her to collect Eddie Rhodes’s Assassin notebook. It was an odd sight, Angelina’s gorgeous physical appearance slowly shifting into the freckly, red-headed boy.

“Interesting,” Montague muttered, thoroughly impressed. The rest of the room was still processing the event that had just taken place. All thoughts of Umbridge had been successfully thrown from everyone’s minds.

“That was unnecessary,” Alicia whispered, “he could have just sat in the meeting.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Eleanor whispered back. Besides, she disagreed. George sitting in a student council meeting would have raised at least some red flags. Fred and George did not participate in school activities unless it was…

  1. Quidditch
  2. For Lee’s broadcast because that was simply cool
  3. It could somehow further their joke shop



Eleanor remembered Fred attending Lupin’s DADA meetings for Angelina and added her to the list with a fit of jealousy.

  1. For Angelina (Fred) or Montague (George, and no one knew about George and Montague but her)



“Er… I think that wraps up our meeting for tonight,” Alicia said to the group, “Montague and Eleanor will speak to Professor Dumbledore on the issue. If you want to take matters into your own hands, consider what I asked of you. Write your parents, write your local paper, do whatever you think you can to help remove her from her post.”

There was a scurry of movement. Students were picking up their belongings and eyeing Eddie’s unconscious body. George was stooped over him, digging around in his bag for the notebook. The lengths people were willing to go to for the eternal glory of Assassins. Well, whatever eternal glory means to a bunch of teenagers.

“Wait,” Montague motioned for the room to pause. He beckoned everyone back to their seats. He looked stern, but as though he at the same time as though he didn’t want to say whatever he was getting to. His face betrayed the smallest amount of discomfort before the air of arrogance returned.

“There have been… rumors of a secret club meeting without permission. I don’t know the details of this club, nor the purpose. I don’t believe it is fair that we are forced to play by the rules being impressed upon us by the Ministry while some are skirting around the issue entirely. If Athena can’t publish-”

“I don’t care,” Athena interjected, “good for whoever that group is. If they exist at all. Didn’t Eleanor just tell us all to do what we wanted anyway? Sounds like good advice to me.”

“Well…” Montague stuttered. It brought joy to Eleanor to see him sweat. “My concern is that if a group is caught breaking the rules, all other groups will be forced to disband permanently-”

“Not permanently,” Lee countered, “just until the bitch is fired.”

“And we can always just do it anyway. Like Eleanor said. They won’t expel anyone for attending an Astronomy club meeting as long as Harry Potter isn’t at that meeting.” Isabella commented.

_Guilt, Blame, Guilt, Blame._

“I… I need anyone here to tell me if they know of such a club,” Montague finished his sentence with his usual authoritative tone, “so I can, well so Eleanor and I-”

“No, not me,” she said quickly, “I’m no rat.”

_Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew._

“Whatever,” Montague scoffed, “just tell me so I can protect us from the consequences. If anyone knows of such a club, please speak up now.”

There was silence. Eleanor peered at some members of the DA, none of whom were giving anything away. Athena looked bored, while Ron and Hermione both stared Montague down without blinking. There was Cho Chang, who picked at her nails, and even Isabella and Eden, two surprising DA members, sat unbothered. Eleanor felt a sense of pride in their small resistance. Down with Umbridge. Down with the Ministry. Down with Voldemort.

“Okay then,” Montague sighed, “you’re dismissed.”

People were shooting Montague dirty looks as they left the classroom. He’d declared himself for Umbridge in that moment, whether he’d meant to or not.

“Are you Umbridge’s little spy?” Eleanor spat.

“No, I just don’t everyone else to pay for whatever game you’re playing at,” he shot back. “You aren’t the only person who matters here Eleanor. Whatever secret society is underway, you and your brother are behind it and if she finds out, we all lose. Not just you, everyone. I’m looking out for the greater good.”

“No, you’re not.” Alicia’s voice was quiet, but in a way that instilled fear rather than suggested it. “You’re looking out for you. You need all your clubs and titles to get a nice, cushy job at the Ministry when you graduate. I don’t know what you’re so concerned about anyway, won’t Voldemort secure jobs for his devoted?”

Eleanor felt another surge in pride at Alicia saying the name. Alicia took a step closer to Montague. She was a good foot or so shorter than he was, but she was a force while he was only a blip on the radar. Power radiated from her.

“I guess you’ve heard the stories about the followers who have let their master down. Your parents would know better than any of us.” Montague’s face flushed. George was watching the confrontation from across the room, clutching Louis’s notebook in his hand. His knuckles were white.

“Anyway, I wanted a word with the two of you. When you meet with the Board of Governors, please pass along the message that the students here are unhappy. I trust Eleanor will do as much, but I’d appreciate you being honest as well.”

And with a toss of her hair, Alicia left the room leaving Eleanor grinning next to Montague.

“Good talk, buddy,” she whispered, patting his arm, “I need to go see your boyfriend now. Talk to him about the things he’d never trust you with. If I’m in a secret club, wouldn’t Georgie be too? And yet you don’t know? He hasn’t told you?”

She knew she crossed a line. George was always begging her not to use him as a taunt against Montague, but she had trouble following that request. It was just too easy.

“Hey, what’s going-” George inserted himself into their conversation, taking Alicia’s leave as a cue to stick up for Montague.

“Nothing,” Eleanor grabbed George by the hand, pulling him away. She pressed her finger firmly onto the firework tattoo as she walked out the door. The firework raised off her skin, the image exploding in a shower of sparks before coming to rest once more. At once, Fred emerged from the corner.

“What took you so long,” he hissed at George. “I stalled Angelina as long as I could. I can only ask for so much Quidditch advice before it becomes obvious.”

“I was having fun,” George shrugged, “next time have a better stalling strategy.”

“I resorted to testing our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder on her,” Fred laughed, “that went over really well. I tried warning you she was coming!”

“Believe me, we know,” Eleanor rubbed her thumb gently over her wrist, the skin under her tattoo a bright red. “Don’t send signals with the tattoo over and over. It burns like a bitch Fred.”

“These were your idea,” Fred rolled back his sleeve to reveal an identical firework tattoo on his wrist, “you knew they were going to hurt. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Eleanor flipped him off. She _had_ known they would hurt. She’d gotten the idea from the dark mark that Voldemort used to communicate with his followers. A quick communication device for when her and the twins were apart. It was painful, to an extent, but extremely useful for pranks and sneaking out. It was worth the dark magic she’d used to spell the tattoos. Was it still considered dark magic if the purpose was innocent?

“All’s well that ends well,” George remarked, holding up Eddie’s notebook. “We’ll see who our next victim is when we get to shack.”

“You almost ruined the whole thing,” Eleanor complained as they walked through the castle. The sun was setting, darkening the castle as they made their way through. “ _I just love Quidditch, it’s just not fair, ugh_! And why were you sitting like that, Angelina doesn’t sit like that. You’re lucky Eddie doesn’t know a damn thing about Angelina.”

“Ah, yeah. I got a little too into the meeting and forgot myself. All that ‘Down with Umbridge’ talk really riled me up.”

“Georgie, it’s a character, you have to play your role,” Fred reminded him sternly. “We didn’t wait months brewing Polyjuice Potion only for you to mess it up with a bad acting job.” Eleanor knew Fred would have taken his role much more seriously. He’d have watched Angelina’s every move for a week prior in order to mimic her flawlessly. It was an event to Fred. George on the other hand was fine with a mediocre performance as long as he got the desired result.

The chill in the late October air felt refreshing after being couped up with over fifty other students in a cramped classroom for an hour. The grounds were mostly deserted as the sun sank further into the skyline, bidding farewell to the Forbidden Forest with a dying glow. The castle came alive behind them as flames illuminated the windows.

They maneuvered their way into the small opening at the base of the Whomping Willow and were immediately overwhelmed by the earthy smell of the tunnel. Some animal had managed its way in only to hole up and die in the comfort of the dark passageway. It reeked of death and decay. Eleanor felt a crunch under her shoe as she stepped further along the tunnel. She’d stepped on the dead creature. She felt an intense sorrow, as though she had disrespected it by treading over its body so carelessly. She bent over to grab the remains, bury whatever was left properly, but Fred scooped her up by her arm.

“It’s already dead. Keep walking, _please_ , I can’t stand the smell.” Eleanor knew she hadn’t killed it, but she still felt guilty for leaving it there. It bothered her the rest of the way to the Shrieking Shack, the image of a lonely prey animal’s crumpled dead body lying forgotten in the middle of the tunnel. Her stomach churned.

George was catching Fred up on the events of the meeting as they walked, Eleanor’s mind still at the entrance of the tunnel.

“Why didn’t Harry come to the meeting tonight?” George asked as they climbed up the stairs leading to the shack. “He’s our fearless leader in the war against Umbridge.”

“I thought that would be a dead giveaway,” Eleanor shrugged, “and there are people who would report us to Umbridge if they had any hard evidence about the DA. Like Montague.”

Eleanor moved around what she assumed had once been the dining room of the old house, lighting small candles to allow them some light. The sun had fully set sometime during their journey to the shack and the moon was covered behind a few wisps of clouds, blocking any remaining source of light.

“Montague hates Umbridge,” George said automatically as though he couldn’t contain himself. He stuttered uncomfortably for a second before continuing on, rushing the words out, “I mean, well, that’s what you’ve said Eleanor from, er, your meetings with him… Head students and all.”

“Yes, I do believe he hates her,” Eleanor frowned at George, settling herself down on the tattered remains of a couch. Lupin had probably been the one to destroy the thing. “But he plays his part in front of her, just in case he’ll need her approval later on in the Ministry.”

“But he wouldn’t tell on us,” George added. He seemed disgusted by himself as he defended Montague. A part of him knew Montague deserved no defense but the other part loved Montague. He squirmed uncomfortably from his spot on the middle of the floor where he sat crisscross applesauce like a child.

“You don’t actually believe that, right? Didn’t you hear him tonight?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’d rat on us for sure,” Fred agreed as he plopped down next to Eleanor, resting his arm behind her on the back of the couch. “He’d do anything to get ahead, even if that means plotting with the enemy. Allowing Umbridge a momentary satisfaction is just a means to an end for him.”

“Exactly,” Eleanor nodded. Sometimes Fred took the words right out of her mouth. Other times he said everything she didn’t want to hear. It just depended on the day.

George shrugged. Eleanor could tell he was physically restraining himself from speaking by biting his lip.

“Georgie, stop defending the prick and write your name in the goddamn book already.” Fred demanded, nodding his head at the book in his brother’s lap.

George regained his usual humorous spirit, picking up the book and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “Voilà! Throw me a quill.”

“I don’t have a quill, but I’ve got a pen,” Eleanor said, searching through her bag. She’d pick it up from the floor of the common room once, some Muggle-born student probably dropping it on accident, thinking she’d hold onto it in case she ever found herself without ink. She hadn’t used it, but she saw the positives of only needing a pen. She bet her mother preferred pens and pencils to quills.

“Is that the thing Muggles use? Will it work?” George asked as she threw it to him.

“I don’t see why not.” 

George uncapped the pen and wrote his name hastily in the notebook. Chicken scratch, per usual. He squinted at the words that appeared on the page before sighing.

“Who’d you get?” Fred asked eagerly, sitting forward to try and catch a peek of the name the book had regurgitated back out.

“Lyra Yaxley,” George grumbled, “why can’t I get someone I actually know for once.”

“Yaxley,” Eleanor muttered, “Death Eaters.”

“Her parents were Death Eaters?”

“Mhm. Well, they claimed they were under the Imperius Curse. Just like the Malfoys,” Eleanor thought of Lucius Malfoy and her stomach churned again. She was glad she missed dinner; she just might have thrown it back up.

“But you think they were the real deal?” Fred inquired.

“Yeah. Voldemort gave them important tasks, like helping kill the McKinnons.” _Aunt Marlene._ “And Alfie says the Yaxley’s are close to his family. Death Eaters tend to keep to themselves.” 

Eleanor knew every accused Death Eater. She knew their crimes, their pleads, their sentences. Instead of studying up on Goblin riots and Ancient Wizarding conflicts, Eleanor studied the first Wizarding War. The only History of Magic test she ever aced was on the War. She’d spent ages nine to fifteen quizzing herself on the names of the dead and the names of the accused, searching through old court records and newspaper clippings to be sure she forgot no one. She forced Alfie and Draco to go through family records. Who were their allies? Who were their enemies?

She’d made herself a mental list, the only thing she ever drilled into her brain. Maybe her memory was such shit because it was so full of information regarding that first war. There wasn’t room for anything else between names like Corban Yaxley and Augustus Rookwood. Severus Snape. Peter Pettigrew. She’d kill them all one day. Her kill list.

“Well, at least I got a Death Eater piece of shit this time,” George noted, “that makes it a bit more fun than old Eddie Rhodes. He’s just… boring.”

Eleanor typically would have argued that just because someone came from a lineage of prejudice and hate that didn’t automatically make them a Death Eater. Look at Alfie. Sirius. But Lyra Yaxley was a Muggle hating bitch. Eleanor kept an eye on all of Voldemort’s possible recruits, and Lyra fit the bill perfectly. Her daddy must have been so proud.

“She’s a Ravenclaw, right?” Fred asked and Eleanor nodded. “Great, then we have two Ravenclaws. Maybe we can double team that one.”

“Right, since Eleanor’s next target is Ares Lovegood. That should be easy,” George laughed, “talk about Loony.”

“He took out Ophelia Vance,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Yeah, right after he drank some shit he claimed let him talk to bunnies,” Fred snorted, “ _the bunnies told me to wait for Ophelia in the bathroom and stun her so I did._ He caught her off guard because he was high off his ass on whatever shit his father sent him. She found him hiding in a stall in on the second floor, wet, giggling, and wigged out.”

“I don’t think he’s loony,” Eleanor continued on, “ _but high_ , definitely. He’s always off his shit on some hallucinogenic while Athena runs on Adderall. Two very different kinds of high for two very different siblings.”

“We love our Ravenclaw druggies,” Fred smiled.

“Don’t forget the Hufflepuff stoners!” George added.

“And the Gryffindor alcoholics,” Eleanor laughed.

“What’s Slytherin then?”

“War criminals?” Fred offered and George fell over in a fit of laughter. Eleanor smiled weakly but didn’t laugh. She ran her finger over her tattoo absentmindedly. She used dark magic for the tattoo and for the Assassins notebooks. Half of the spells she stashed away for later use could be considered dark magic. Between Eleanor and Isabella, the future war criminal was clear, and it certainly wouldn’t be the Slytherin.

“So, we’ve got Ares, Lyra, and Fred still has Adrian,” Eleanor said, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. “With a combined total of four kills under our belt already, I think we can take this lot out by Christmas I think.”

“I think we can get it done by your birthday, Ella,” Fred suggested.

“No way, my birthday’s next week. We’ll need at least a week to figure out Lyra’s schedule. Maybe we can get Adrian by then, but…” Eleanor’s sentence drifted off. Her birthday was next week. Halloween was next week. Fuck.

“I think Iris is planning you a surprise party on Halloween,” Fred said, leaning back against the sofa they were sitting on.

“Well, it’s not much of a surprise now is it.”

“It’s better that you know now. That way you’ll actually come back to the common room instead of sitting by yourself all night in the trophy room.”

Eleanor scowled. A normal Halloween night consisted of bringing a bottle of brandy to the trophy room to stare at the picture of her dad smiling and waving after winning the quidditch cup, get black out drunk, and cry until she passed out. She couldn’t cancel such a plan so last minute. It was tradition.

“Maybe it’ll be better to be around people.”

“No, I like to be alone on Halloween. And I hate my birthday,” she added stubbornly. “Tell Iris to call the whole thing off.”

“Don’t you think I already tried,” Fred sighed, “but at the same time, I do love an excuse to get completely obliterated on a Tuesday night.”

“Then do it. You don’t need me there to get wasted.”

“No, I don’t but I have a lot more fun when you’re getting wasted with me.”

Eleanor played with a piece of fabric hanging off the edge of the sofa.

“There will be alcohol,” Fred nudged Eleanor with his shoulder. She shrugged, refusing to speak on the subject anymore.

“I’m going to see Sirius and Lupin on Halloween,” she said suddenly. “Not the whole night, maybe just the afternoon. But I might stay… who knows if I’ll be back in time.”

The idea had been bouncing around in her head for quite some time, but she hadn’t committed to it until that moment. Her godfathers were the only people she thought she could stand to be around on Halloween. They understood what she lost that night. They’d lost just as much.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Fred nodded.

“They’re still living at Grimmauld Place together?” George seemed happy to rejoin the conversation. He’d never push her on matters regarding her parents. Especially not on Halloween. Halloween was bad.

“As far as I know,” she muttered, continuing to twirl the piece of rotting cushion fabric around her finger. “I don’t get their deal.”

“They’re so awkward around each other,” Fred remarked, “I wouldn’t have guessed they’d dated if you hadn’t told me.”

“I mean, it’s understandable, isn’t it?” George said. “They were apart for what, twelve years? And for those twelve years, Lupin thought Sirius betrayed him in the worst way possible. That’s not something you just move past overnight.”

“Do you think they’ll get there eventually?” Eleanor asked, almost desperately. She sounded like a delusional child whose parents were getting a divorce.

“I don’t know, maybe. You know them better than I do.”

The way Lily’s diary put it, Sirius and Lupin were the closest thing to soulmates she had ever known. To quote her own mother, “ _I don’t believe in soulmates, but they make me question myself_.” They were supposed to be together, destined to even. If they couldn’t move past their issues, then Eleanor simply didn’t believe in love. How could someone as broken as her find love if two people who were made for each other couldn’t? 

“Is Sirius still spooked from almost getting caught in the fire by Umbridge?”

“He hasn’t written since, so I’m assuming so.”

“You know who else hasn’t written back?” George sat up as though just remembering something pertinent. “Percy!”

“Oh shit,” Eleanor laughed, “he didn’t! Should we send a follow up? Just to make sure he got our letter?”

“Dear Percy,” Fred mocked, his voice high, “did you receive our previous letter? Circle yes or no and promptly return!”

“He’d never respond,” Eleanor snorted at Fred’s words. “I wonder what his response was. Balling the letter up and throwing it out? Contemplating his actions and coming to the light? Tears?”

“Personally, I hope we got some tears.”

They stayed in the shrieking shack a little while longer, contemplating ways to stun their new targets. Around midnight they started the long walk back to Hogwarts through the underground tunnel connecting the two places. Back at the Whomping Willow, the remains of the dead animal lay exactly where they’d left it.

It was a mole, its body deflated in the middle from where Eleanor had stepped on it. She let the twins exit the tunnel before her. She stooped down, picked up the poor animal and buried it off to the side. She thought it would make her feel better to have buried the thing, but it didn’t. She dreamed she was sitting in the forbidden forest, watching as it burned to the ground around her. A single mole sat at her feet, burnt to a crisp, a shoe mark in the middle of its body, bones crushed.

Until it wasn’t a mole anymore. It was Fred, giant gashes in his torso as he choked on his own blood. Hogwarts burning around them.


	27. Coming Soon

This work will be updated every 2-3 days. I like to edit between postings, but I still sometimes miss things. If you see anything you think I may have missed shoot me a message, it would be greatly appreciated. 

I expect to post the next chapter by Saturday 3/13 at the latest (I expect this chapter to be pretty long, so beware it may take a day or two longer than I'd typically like). 


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